The Other Half
by fanpersonthingy
Summary: She had his heart but not his soul. Dumbledore told Harry that he wasn't capable of loving, but Dumbledore only told Harry half the story. She was the other half.
1. July, 1, 2001

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. The characters - except for Gwen- are all J. k. Rowlings

**a/n:** I'm using a time line starting from when the first book was published in 1997. So assuming that was the year Harry first went to hogwarts, then the date I have below, would be a short time before the start of the sixth book. I think that's all I had to say. Enjoy.

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**July, 1, 2001**

The newspaper lay on the table face up, its headline bold and un-miss-able. The woman sat there, staring at it, but not really seeing it. She had hardly moved since she opened the Daily Profit almost an hour ago. She had expected it to happen. She had expected it since the moment he so called died, but to actually have it confirmed was different. That made it real, it made the pain something that wasn't just a thing of the past; it brought the pain back into the present.

The woman had a beauty that had stayed with her even as her years had added up. A beauty that age hadn't taken away. All though it had been a fair number of years since the woman had been in what you would call her prime she hardly looked it. The only signs of the years she had lived, and things she had seen were the grey streaks in her crisp brown hair, and lines around her full lips, and round, green, eyes. Time, it seemed had robbed her of so much, but it had let her keep her looks; she had no use – or want – for it.

Words and faces swirled into her head as memories she had kept boxed up broke free of their cells. Thoughts she hadn't allowed herself to think, and feelings she hadn't allowed herself to feel in years came rushing in and she couldn't put up the flood gates fast enough to stop them.

_It couldn't be true, it just couldn't_. She couldn't handle it if it was. She thought she had dealt with it back then, but now, now she knew she hadn't done anything but hide it all away.

Slowly, her shock left her and was replaced by a burning rage. Her hand came across the table sweeping the paper, and the news of his return, onto the floor where her cat – Iggy – promptly started clawing it into little pieces.

"Why?" She asked the room, "Why the bloody hell couldn't he just stay where he was?!"

She repeated that to herself many times, even though she knew the answer to that. She had so many whys, and that was only the tip of it. _Why did he have to come back? Why couldn't he just stay died?! _Of course, she knew why he wouldn't just stay died. It wasn't his way to admit defeat like that. In the end, death was probably the only thing he feared.

She played with the simple silver locket that hung around her neck. A locket she should have gotten rid of years ago, but couldn't. The tears had started; they washed away the anger and replaced it with a never ending pain. A pain she had lived with for over twenty years, and would have until the day she died.

"Why," She said quietly to the room, to herself, to him, "Why did you say you loved me, when love wasn't something you were capable of?"

That question had plagued the woman for years, ever since she was a young girl. She had no answer for it. She would probably never have an answer. She had no idea what she knew anymore. She never did really. She thought what they had, had, had been real but now she had no idea. She couldn't tell what had been a façade and what hadn't; he had hidden so much from so many, why was she any different. What if he had just played her too? He just showed her a different mask than he showed the others, but why? Why her?

Thunder echoed around the small one floor cottage, making the woman jump. She peered out the small window above the sink and saw that dark clouds had rolled in covering the stars.

"A storms coming," She said to her cat as she wiped the tears from her face. No sooner had the words left her mouth did rain start coming down like a waterfall, hammering down on her roof. Iggy dashed under the nearest piece of furniture. The rain was coming down so hard on the roof that the lady didn't hear the soft knocking at her door.

A bright flash of lightning flicked across the sky, revealing the dark silhouette of her visitor against her window. The woman yelped in shock and pulled out her long wooden wand. She crept towards her door with slow shaking steps. She could only think of one person crazy enough to go out in such weather, and she was desperate for it not to be him.

The hand holding the wand quivered as she called through the door, "Who- who's there?!"

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore" the silhouette called.

The woman felt weak with relief as she opened the food, "Professor Dumbledore, I didn't hear your knocking."

"Ah, I am sorry for startling you Miss Night," he said as he walked in out of the rain, "and please call me Albus we are both too old for formalities. It's been quite a few years since I was your professor, Gwendolyn." His eyes twinkled.

"All right, Albus," Gwendolyn Night said as she indicated for her visitor to sit, "Can I get you something to drink?"

"That would be lovely," Albus said then noticing the scraps of paper on the floor added, "I see we've had a little mess."

Gwendolyn set two drinks on the table and looked at the floor, "yes, my cat. I hadn't gotten around to cleaning it up yet."

"Perfectly understandable," Dumbledore replied, "allow me to clean it for you." The old man pulled out his wand and with a flick the paper scraps were gone and a newspaper was folded neatly between the two people on the table.

Gwen nodded her thanks. She wondered what she must look like to her old professor. Here she was hiding in the muggle world, her eyes all red and puffy from crying. He was, of course, too kind to comment on any of this, but she knew he knew why she had done all of this. Dumbledore was a smart and clever man, who had known her in her youth.

"I'm sure," he said taping the newspaper in front of him, "You know whom I came here to speak to you about."

Gwendolyn closed her eyes and slowly nodded her head, "I thought… for a moment… that you were-were him… I thought he might... but I guess…"

"So you haven't seen him? He hasn't come to find you?" Dumbledore said.

"Not since last time," she said carefully.

Dumbledore looked at her through his half-moon spectacles," I wasn't sure. I thought he might… It would be most appreciated, Gwendolyn, if you would contact us if he does. Could you do that?"

She paused, letting all her emotions run through her before she answered this request. There was a part of her - she was ashamed to admit it – that wanted to say no. A part of her that didn't want them to have him; she had to remind herself that he wasn't the boy she – thought – she had known anymore. That boy may never have existed.

With her eyes tightly closed in a vain attempt to hold back her tears she nodded, "Of course, sir… I mean Albus. Of course I will."

"Thank you," Dumbledore said gravely, "I know it has been hard for you, and now- unfortunately- I must ask of you one more thing. The papers, as I'm sure you have read, are labeling Mr. Potter as the chosen one. Whether that is true or not, now that Voldemort is back, he is most defiantly in danger."

"That poor boy," Gwendolyn said more to herself than to Dumbledore, "his poor parents… all those poor people- how could he-how could I not…" She trailed off and had to wipe away more tears then said to Albus, "Of course I'll help. I'll do anything you need me to do."

"What I need from you are your memories, my dear. You see what I think we need to do to help is learn more about Lord Voldemort, to look into his past, to rid us of him in the future. Since you have been close to young Mr. Riddle like no one else has, your memories could be most crucial to learning."

Gwendolyn paused. All her past, all those memories had been locked away for years. Locked in a place where she wouldn't have to look at them or think about them. Locked in a place where she wouldn't have to feel the pain. They had been locked there so long she wasn't sure she could handle bringing them out.

"I'm not so sure we were that close," she muttered, "but…"

_How could I have been so thick? _She asked herself. _How could I have not seen what Tom Riddle would become? Why did I allow myself to fall for him, to be fooled by him? I use to see that darkness in his eyes… when I had that stopped? Why had I trusted him? Why had I loved him?_

They always say there are two sides to every story.

"But," she repeated, "if you think it will help, then let's do it."

She was the other half of this story, and it was time that it was told.

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**A/N: **I remembered what else I wanted to say. I may take a little while to update next, I have to go through two or three of the books to get the time line straight for this fic, please be patient, I will update as soon as possible. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.


	2. September, 1, 1943

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but Gwendolyn and her friends.

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**September 1, 1943**

A young girl stepped off the gleaming scarlet train, followed by a group of adolescents dressed in black robes similar to the girl's. She was among the youngest getting off the train filled with young people. She had brown hair that framed her face in a stylish bob. Her full lips were open in a wide smile and her round green eyes were wide with wonder. This was the most exciting that had happened to her in her eleven years, and she was determined not to miss a thing of it.

"First years, this way if you please," a voice called out over the ruckus of hundreds of students heading for their school.

The girl joined the throng of first years heading towards the voice and the woman who owned it.

"Alright," she said after waiting for the older students to clear out, "let us be going. Follow me please."

All the first years followed the woman towards the lake, where there was a fleet of small boats waiting for them.

"Alright, everyone, get into a boat, if you please," She said stepping into a boat herself.

"Isn't this simply amazing, Gwendolyn?" Evelyn McClain, the girl Gwendolyn Night had met on the train asked. Gwendolyn was too awed to do anything more than nod.

The two girls climbed into a boat that was only occupied by one boy. In the dark gloom of the night, Gwendolyn couldn't see anything remarkable about him. He was wearing a faded set of robes that were most likely a second hand pair; whether they were bought second hand or were a hand-me-down she couldn't tell. He had dark hair and pale skin that seemed to glow in the dark. As unremarkable as the boy appeared to be, something about him drew Gwendolyn towards him; she couldn't seem to pull her gaze away from the boy. As the boats pulled them closer to their destination, the boy turned away from the murky depths and locked gazes with her. She felt her cheeks burn and she quickly looked away, but not before she got a good look at his face. He had a rather attractive face, with slightly delicate features. His eyes, however, were what caught Gwendolyn. They were dark, deep, and all around mysterious. They appeared to be hiding all kinds of secrets in their depths.

Gwendolyn was curious about the boy with the mysterious eyes. She wanted to know more about him, and yet at the same time she wanted nothing to do with him.

Before she could get too caught up in those thoughts a wondrous sight met her eyes. High about the lake, atop mountainous boulders, a blaze like a twinkling star against the night sky was her new school.

"It's… it's…" words failed Gwendolyn as she stared at the building. She couldn't find a word grand enough to describe what she was seeing. Grand enough to describe what she felt when she looked up at the school.

"Indescribable, unspeakable," a soft masculine voice finished for her. The boy at the front of the boat stopped looking up at Hogwarts and looked at her as he finished, "It is beyond words."

Gwendolyn's cheeks became warm again under his unwavering unreadable stare, but she nodded her head "Exactly."

The boat came to a rocking halt once they reached the boulders at the base of the school. One by one, they all carefully got out of the boats and followed the woman into the school. They were met by a man in a small square room.

"Hello and welcome to Hogwarts," he said.

The man was on the tall side and impressive. He had dark hair and a beard the ended past his chin. His blue eyes twinkled merrily behind a pair of half moon spectacles. Gwendolyn, who was still watching the boy, saw a spark of recognition and perhaps apprehension in his eyes when he saw the man.

"I am Professor Dumbledore, and in a few moments you will all go into the great hall and will be sorted into your houses," he paused for a moment and looked over the hall with a penetrating stare, "The houses, as I'm sure many of you already know, are Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I must tell you that while you are here your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points, and if you are caught breaking any rules, you will lose points. The house with the most points at the end of the school year will win the house cup," his eyes twinkled even more merrily as he finished, "and now, with out farther adieu, let us go get sorted."

Gwendolyn followed Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the first years through the big double doors all the while hoping desperately that they wouldn't have to do magic to be sorted. Gwendolyn, being a muggle-born had never preformed any spells and was sure she would be embarrassed if forced to do magic now.

Once they were through the doors, however, all worries left her on sight of the magnificent room they had walked into. It was every bit as indescribable as the outside had been. There were four long tables holding older students, which faced a fifth table where the Professors were sitting. That wasn't what had Gwendolyn's attention though. What had her attention was the ceiling, or lack there of. When she looked up what she saw instead of a normal ceiling, was the evening sky twinkling down at her. This view was so mesmerizing that she couldn't pull her eyes away from it. She walked forward with her head turned up to the heavens. So, when the group stopped, Gwendolyn, unfortunately, did not stop with it. She took a few more steps forward walking into the person in front of her.

Blushing furiously she pointed to the ceiling and stuttered, "Oh my… I'm sorry. I was looking at the…"

She stood there pointing at the roof as the boy who was in her boat turned towards her, stared at her a moment then nodded his head before looking back at the front.

Gwendolyn declared to herself she was going to start paying attention from then on, and looked up at the front. Dumbledore was holding a scroll and stood beside a ragged old hat that was sitting on top of a stool.

Gwendolyn looked expectantly at Dumbledore, and was surprised to find that it was the hat that spoke instead of the teacher. It didn't speak, it sung. It sung a song about four wizards who built a school, but then couldn't agree on what kind of people to accept. They each took the people they thought they should bring and taught them, themselves, and they made the hat so that long after they were gone, the students would still be sorted accordingly.

"Well," Dumbledore said once the hat was done saying its bit, "wasn't that fun. So, when I call your name you will come forward, and sit on the stool, and then I will put that hat on your head."

"That's it?" Gwendolyn heard someone ask somebody else as the first person – an Aaron Abbott – was called forth. The hat was placed on his head, and in a few moments it called out "Ravenclaw!"

And so it went. One by one, the students were called up, and one by one, the hat sent them to Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. For some people it took time for the hat to make its decision, for others it was only a matter of seconds.

The alphabet flew by, A, B, C, D, Hepburn, Johnson, Kent, Lestrange.

"Evelyn McClain," Gwendolyn watched as her new friend waded through the other first years to get to the front. Her blonde hair swished around her shoulders as she walked for. Evelyn sat on the stool and Dumbledore dropped the hat over her eyes. Making her resemble a pixie with her already pixie like features. There were a few moments as the hat deliberated and then:

"Gryffindor!"

Evelyn smiled as she walked towards the cheering Gryffindor table. Gwendolyn smiled too for Evelyn had told her that she had to get into Gryffindor while they were on the train together. She said that both her parents were in Gryffindor. Gwendolyn thought that her parents would be happy no matter what house Evelyn got into.

"I guess so… as long as I wasn't in Slytherin," was what Evelyn had said when Gwen had told her what she thought, "they would disown me."

"Why? What ever is the mater with Slytherin?" Gwendolyn asked wide-eyed. She couldn't imagine the house would be so bad that parents would disown you for ending up there.

"They wouldn't actually disown me," Evelyn said with a laugh reading the look on Gwen's face, "but they wouldn't be too pleased… Slytherins are a bad lot… not very nice… cruel even… some are violent"

Gwendolyn looked over at the long Slytherin table at the other side of the room. They did look like a rough bunch. She lowered her gaze from the table and looked back to the sorting.

They were done with the M's and starting with N; it would be her turn soon. Her hands started to shake and her mouth went dry, and a horrible thought came to her: _What if they don't call my name at all? What if I just stand here, and all the people are gone… and it's only me? What if they had to send me back… they made a mistake? _Her stomach felt like a thousand pounds.

"Gwendolyn Night," It was her turn, her name was called. Her relief at this fact was short lived though as I new horrible thought came to her: _What if I wasn't sorted? What if I couldn't be placed in any of the houses, and I just sit there with the hat on my head? _Her face was pale, and her whole body shook as she went up the few steps to get to the stool. _Oh good god, I can't do this! _She thought in a panic as she got a glimpse of the students before the hat covered her eyes. She sat there seeing only the inside of the hat, her heart in her throat waiting for something to happen.

_Hah, it's amazing how many of you think you won't get sorted, _Gwendolyn jumped as a voice growled in her ear _None of you think I can do my job. I have never failed once, though I really should just leave one of you sitting here. _

"Oh please, no Mr. Hat …sir…. Please I need to be sorted!!" She whispered in earnest hoping that none of the other students heard her but judging by the giggles, a few at the very least heard.

_Calm down, I am a professional, Hmm, let's see,_ Gwendolyn waited hoping that he would pick a house _Interesting. You're not afraid to speak your mind, I see… hmm and you see people too… generous… loyal… a helper… Where to put you?_

"Hufflepuff!"

Weak with relief at actually being sorted she bounded a little too quickly from the stool and stumbled. There was a roar of laughter from the far table, the Slytherin table. Cheeks flaming Gwendolyn kept her head down as she walked to her new table. Once she was in her seat she gave a sad, lonely smile to Evelyn at the Gryffindor table; she returned the gesture.

"That could have been a nasty fall, are you alright?" The boy next to her asked in a low voice as Clara Nolan was sent to Ravenclaw.

She looked over at her neighbor. He had light brown almost blond wavy hair. He had warm caramel brown eyes, and a great smile. A smile that made Gwendolyn want to smile back.

"Oh, that. I'm fine. I kind of do that kind of thing all the time," she said with a smile, her blush still vivid on her face.

All in all the factors combined to a very flattering affect. This boy was very attractive. She didn't remember seeing him get sorted, so she figured he must have been older.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to get use to that, then," he said his eyes sparkling merrily, "I'm Glenn O'Donnell."

"Gwendolyn Night," She said pointing to the front, "Though you probably remember that."

He smiled, "I did all that mess last year. The worst is over. You ever need help around here, just ask me. It helps to have a friend who knows what they're doing on the first day when you don't."

Gwendolyn beamed. She couldn't believe how lucky she had been. She looked down at her empty plate, then back up at Glenn from under her eyelashes. He was looking at her. She felt a blush creep up in her cheeks as she turned back to the sorting. They had moved down to R in the time Gwendolyn had been talking to Glenn.

"Tom Riddle."

Gwendolyn realized with a jolt that it was the boy from her boat who walked forward at that name. Tom walked forward with none of the nervous worries that Gwendolyn new she had shown. The hat had hardly touched his head before it yelled, "Slytherin!"

"Slytherins are a bad lot" Evelyn's words come back to her as she watched the boy walk confidently towards the cheering green table.

She found herself strangely disappointed at this out come. Strangely disappointed and wondering; she wondered what the quickness of the hat's decision meant about the boy- Tom. She wondered what all it could have to do with mysteries, secrets that were hidden in the depth of his dark brown eyes.

|~*~|

Gwendolyn's first week went by in a blurring flurry. She was running from classroom to classroom, getting new teacher after new teacher, and meeting new classmates after new classmates. The classes she had with the Gryffindors and Evelyn were by far the most enjoyable. The ones she had with the Slytherins were by far the least enjoyable. Evelyn had been right about them.

"They are all absolutely vile," Gwendolyn complained to Glenn after lunch in their common room on her first Saturday, "They're crude and cruel. Their idea of jokes is cruel. One of them jinxed poor Betty Johnson the other day for a laugh, for a laugh!"

"What about your friend?" Glenn looked down at her with a serious face.

Gwen looked at him confused, "Who, Evelyn? What does she have to do with Slytherin?"

"No, not Evelyn," he replied shaking his head, "That boy from the sorting. He was in a faded set of robes and went to Slytherin. You watch him all the way to his table that evening, and looked back more than once through dinner."

Tom! Gwendolyn blushed. She hadn't realized Glenn had notice that. She had watched Tom Riddle the rest of the week; her curiosity had not left her. In fact, the more she had watched him, the deeper her curiosity had become. He had seemed a quiet and well behaved boy. He never seemed to be part of any of the other Slytherin's misbehaving, and he never out right laughed at ones misfortune, only smiled although there was something in his eyes when things like that happened. Something dark, something that made Gwendolyn shivered. When the others missed behaved. It seemed to Gwendolyn that Tom seemed to be too innocent. If it was an act, it was a good act. He had almost all the teachers fooled, and Evelyn always thought that Gwendolyn was over thinking things and would ask her why she cared. Gwendolyn didn't know why; she had no answer to that question. It didn't make sense, all she knew was that she was curious… she wanted to know.

"Oh, he's not my friend… he was just in the same boat as me… I was curious," she told Glenn simple. She felt he didn't need to hear anymore.

Glenn smiled then, though his eyes stayed serious, "That's good. It never bodes well to get tangled up with Slytherin.

"I'll remember that," Gwendolyn said then to quickly changing the subject, "I'm going to meet Evelyn at the library… could I interest you in coming along? I'm sure she would love to meet a handsome older gentleman like yourself."

Glenn agreed to go, and although she joked with him the whole way down Gwendolyn's mind was elsewhere.

The whole time Gwendolyn had been watching Tom Riddle, she didn't realize that, for whatever reason, Tom Riddle had been watching her. She didn't know that is till the next Monday when she walked into charms class.

She sat herself done at the seat the Professor had assigned her to sit at and waited for the class to start.

"I can't believe he made us sit in assigned seating," The girl on one side of Gwendolyn complained and gave her a nasty look as the chair on the other side of her was pulled out. Gwendolyn opened her mouth to say something to her but the person who had just sat down beat her to it.

"We mustn't be rude, Bella," Tom Riddle said to the girl with a smile playing on his otherwise unreadable face. He then looked at Gwendolyn for a long moment, the smile slipping from his features, "You were on my boat when we came to Hogwarts, were you not?"

Gwendolyn was surprised that not only had he remembered that she was on the same boat, but that he was now asking her about it. Over the week she had been at Hogwarts, Gwendolyn had noticed one thing, if nothing else; that thing was that Slytherins seemed to stick more or less with Slytherins. Yet, here was Tom Riddle, talking to her a Hufflepuff- who in house dynamics she figured Slytherins usually hated only a fraction less then they hated Gryffindors. She couldn't figure out why he would do such a thing, or what he wanted from her.

Gwendolyn nodded, "I was. I'm Gwendolyn Nig-"

"I know," he said cutting her off and sounding ever-so-slightly pleased with himself at knowing this, then almost as an after thought he added "I'm Tom Rid-"

"I know," Gwendolyn said matching his tone to-a-T.

The two sat there. Toms unwavering, unreadable gaze locked on Gwendolyn's confused, yet confident one. She refused to be the one to look away first.

"You are Mu-" Tom started as if to say one word then caught himself, "-ggle born?

Gwendolyn blinked. How did he know that? She hadn't told him… maybe he heard her tell some one else… but Gwendolyn didn't remember saying it around him anytime.

The girl next to her- Bella- scoffed, "I thought I smelt Mud-blood when I sat down."

Gwendolyn didn't know what a Mud-blood was but judging from Bella's tone, she figured it wasn't a complement, and figuring that Bella said it after Tom saying she was a Muggle born, Gwendolyn figured that it was probably another name for that. She opened her mouth to say something back to the girl when something clicked in her brain.

"You're a Mu-ggle born?" Tom wasn't going to say muggle born when he started; he was going to say something else. He was going to say Mud-blood.

Gwen suddenly forgot everything else. Her blood boiled as she turned to glare at Tom.

"Yes, I'm a Mud blood. That was what you wanted to say wasn't it Riddle? Oh please, don't be polite on my account. Just say what you really want. Didn't your Mamma tell you to be yourself? Don't worry _Tommy _this class will be over soon enough and you and your darling Bella over here can go wash off the Mud-blood."

There was a momentary pause, "That was exactly what I was going to do, _Night_."

|~*~|

After her first few weeks at Hogwarts, Gwendolyn woke-up to find all her fellow first years grouped around the notice board in the common room.

"What's going on," She asked the red-headed James Walker.

"Flying lessons, this afternoon," he replied happily before going off.

"Flying?" Gwen said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, on broomsticks," Glenn said from behind her.

"Wait, you are telling me you guys actually do that?!" Gwendolyn asked in surprise and amusement.

Glenn just nodded his head.

"You're joking me," Gwendolyn sad as she moved towards the sign. Before lunch, it said, they were to have a flying lesson with … Slytherin.

Even after what happened in charms class, she still found herself wondering about Riddle, more so then before. He had started to say Mud-blood but then didn't; he wanted to keep up an appearance. Why? What made him do that? What did Tom Riddle want? What did he gain from hiding?

That day at flying she watched Tom and didn't find anything extravagant. The only thing she saw was that as the class went on, he got more and more frustrated. For once, Tom wasn't the best in the class, and Gwendolyn could see in his eyes, it was driving him mad. For once, Gwendolyn was the best. She loved flying. She loved the feeling of the wind in her hair. By the end of class Gwendolyn could fly smoothly around the sky. She even succeeded in doing a few tricks.

"Miss Night!" Professor Wilart yelled after blowing his whistle more than once, "Come back down!"

She landed smoothly back on the grass and put her broom with the others. As she walked back towards the school saw Tom glowering with some of his Slytherin groupies. She didn't really know what made her do it. Part of it was probably over the charms lesson, another part of her just did it because it looked like it would be fun.

"Aw, Riddle," She cooed with an overly dramatic pout on her face, "did you get out flown by a filthy little Mud-blood?"

She didn't wait to get a response but just turned and walked towards the school, where she found Glenn standing by the doors.

"Wow, you're pretty good," he said referring to her flying, "You could probably play Quidditch."

"What's Quidditch?" She asked.

"It's the wizarding sport. You play on brooms… Kind of a brutal game actually," he answered.

Gwen wasn't normally a sports person, but anything that got her back on a broom she had to do. She didn't care if it was kind of brutal or not, "Can you show me how to play?"

Glenn shrugged, "Why not.


	3. October, 21, 1945

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Disclamer:

I do not own anything but Gwen, Glenn, and Edward! All else is work of the fab. JK Rowling

**A/N: **I am sooooo, soooo, so sorry for the long wait! I started writting then got distracted then went back to it then had to do school crap, and yeah, but it is here now... and it's a long chapter for yeah :)

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**October 21, 1945**

The whistle blew and Gwendolyn kicked off into the air. The game had started and she had eyes for nothing but the burgundy Quaffle.

Glenn had been true to his word and showed Gwendolyn all the ropes and tricks to the wizarding sport. She had spent all of her first year at Hogwarts sneaking out with Glenn to have flying and Quidditch lessons. By the time Gwen got to her second year, she owned her own broom and was an old pro at Quidditch. She was a shoe-in for her house's Quidditch team, and by the end of her first Quidditch season, and second year of Hogwarts the whole school k talked of her Quidditch skills.

"Another goal for Hufflepuff," the commentator, a boy by the name of Edward Leastwood, called, "made by Gwendolyn Night. The score's now Hufflepuff 50 and Ravenclaw 15. Night is unstoppable; if Ravenclaw doesn't get that snitch soon, they'll have no hope of winning."

Edward was one of Gwendolyn's more avid fans. He was a huge Quidditch fan despite his complete lack of ability for it. He had been very doubt full of Gwendolyn's – a girl, not to mention muggle-born and only in her second year – ability to play before her first game. He had been astonished by her first performance, and had been chasing her for a date ever since.

Gwendolyn zoomed through the air, across the pitch towards the Ravenclaw goal post; she had the Quaffle securely hooked in the crook of her right arm. She was focused on the goal hoops. So focused that she didn't see the bludger that the Ravenclaw beater hit right for her; she didn't hear the calls of warning from the crowd either.

Although it was heading straight for her head, it had been hit from behind. She couldn't see it.

When she was playing Quidditch she was focused. Nothing else was in her mind but her, the Quaffle and the opposing team's goals: as it should be for any good chaser, or so Gwen felt. Except that meant she forgot about the other dangers Quidditch had for her - namely the Bludgers and the beaters.

The crowd called and hollered for her to turn or dodge – well most of them did anyways – but they all fell on deft ears. Gwen wasn't paying attention to any of them. Not a single on got to her; not a single one, except for the one that rang inside her head.

To the crowd it looked like another amazing play by their favourite Quidditch Queen. It just looked like she had perfect timing – eyes in the back of her head. For she had to have eyes in the back of her head to swing around her broom at the exact second the bludger should have made collision with her head, and manage to hold on to the Quaffle to get another score.

It had been a move that was all about timing. Only someone who had been able to see their threat should have been able to do that move. Gwen shouldn't have been able to see that bludger – in fact everyone had been sure she _hadn't_ seen it- and yet, she had pulled it off.

"That's my girl, eyes in the back of her head!" Edward yelled over the cheers as Gwendolyn sent the Quaffle past Ravenclaw's stunned Keeper.

That's what it had looked to everyone. It looked like Gwendolyn had had eyes in the back of her head.

The bludger had been going to hit her. Gwen knew that as she watched it sail past her. She had been oblivious to the threat. She had, had no idea what was going to happen to her, and it _was_ going to happen… but then…

A thought just appeared. A simple thought, a life saving thought. It was just three words, three simple words that saved her life, three simple words that hadn't been her own.

_Bludger, Gwen duck! _

Those three simple words had sprung into her mind as she was flying. She followed the command mindlessly, and only realized afterwards, as she watched the danger pass that _she hadn't thought those words_. Someone else's thought had been in her head. Someone else had saved her life… but that was crazy wasn't it?

The voice had been male! Gwendolyn was sure of that. It couldn't have been her. There was something familiar about the voice, hauntingly so, but try as she may – and she would try hard in the days to come – she couldn't place it. She did know however, that whoever it was, whoever saved her life, was a very powerful wizard.

"Of course," Edward was saying into the speaker, "Wellington is going to have to pay for almost decapitating my future wife."

Gwen shook her head; she was being crazy. She needed to get back into the game.

"Hey, Leastwood!" She called over to the charming commentator, a smile playing across her lips.

"Yes, my sweet," he replied into the amplifier.

"In your dreams," she called speeding off to get the Quaffle.

She pushed the voice out of her mind as Edward called,

"You're a heart breaker, Night!"

|~*~|

"Aw," Gwendolyn sighed after reading the new notice on the board, "no-more free period for me."

"Professor Selene is back?" Glenn more stated than asked.

"Yes sir, it is off to Divination with me," she said sinking down on the couch next to Glenn.

He looked down at her, where she slouched into the cushions. A slight smile played across his face; there was a certain light in his eyes that Gwendolyn didn't understand or recognize. He kept looking at her with this expression. Gwen felt an uncomfortable smile spread across her face and sifted her eyes across the room.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked with a nervous giggle.

Glenn jumped a bit and shook his head, "Hmm, oh, I was just thinking how glad I am that, that bludger didn't smash right into that pretty little head of yours."

Gwendolyn felt uncomfortable with the turn of conversation and the way Glenn had been and still was looking at her. She felt her cheeks grow warm and she looked at her hands in her lap.

"Yes," she said looking up again, "I'm rather glad of that myself."

"I really thought it was going too…" he trailed off, searching her face with his eyes. He slowly reached out and moved a stray strand of hair out of Gwendolyn's face, "I really thought that you didn't hear us. How you couldn't I don't know. Leastwood was hollering into that amplifier… but then you…"

"I _didn't_ hear _you_," Gwendolyn muttered.

She had been thinking about what had happened at the game every day since. Every night that voice had haunted her dreams, the voice that was so foreign to her, and yet, so familiar. It was like an old friend that she somehow managed to forget. Those three words, _Bludger, Gwen duck _played on a loop in her head.

She was so sure she had heard them, that they had been in her head and yet it hadn't been her thinking them. She only heard them, as if spoken by another, but how could that be so?

"Pardon?" Glenn asked having not been able to hear her mumblings.

The truth sounded so crazy. How could it sound sane? Gwendolyn was sure that even in the world of wizarding, voices in her head that weren't hers were not a good sign.

She couldn't tell Glenn. She would sound crazy, maybe she was crazy… Gwendolyn couldn't tell anymore.

She couldn't tell Glenn so she lied, "I _almost_ didn't… hear you that is… Come on I'm famished let's go to lunch."

|~*~|

After lunch Gwendolyn had her first divination class of the year. She should have started Divination with all her other classes at the beginning of the year, but the teacher – professor Selene- had suffered some sort of … nervous break down or something just before the school year was to start. Headmaster Dippet didn't have enough time to get a replacement for her. So the school just let the children signed up for Divination have a free period until the people at St. Mugo's said she was healthy enough to come back, or they got a replacement.

Professor Selene _had _been deemed well enough to come back. Gwendolyn, however, thought that they might have made the decision too hastily.

Professor Selene was a thin and frail woman. She was petit with mousy brown hair. Her thin face had a sickly air to it. The young Professor's hands quivered as the class filed in, and Gwendolyn thought she looked like she would faint if one of Gwen's Slytherin class mates so much as looked at her.

"No, no, no," she almost screeched in her frail wispy voice after the class took their seats at the low tables, "this will _never _do, never. We simply must do it again."

Gwendolyn, who was sitting with some of her fellow Hufflepuff's at a table near the back, exchanged looks of surprise and confusion with them.

When all her class did nothing but stare back at her, Professor Selene waved her hands, and ordered exasperatedly, "Up, up… come now, on your feet."

Gwen had not anticipated a turn of events like this when she had signed up for Divinations. Even with out knowing what was going to happen next she started to question the wisdom of that choice.

She, like the rest of the class, was standing around wondering what exactly Professor Selene wanted them to do when, the frail young Professor walked up to the nearest table and shooed the children there away. She told them to stand somewhere useful, than stood with her eyes shut. The room was quiet as the teacher stood. The students stood also, wondering what was going on.

Suddenly, Professor Selene jabbed her index finger at a pointy noised, pale skinned, dark haired Slytherin girl, "You sit here."

The girl – Clarisse – gave a noticeable jump at the sudden command before giving Selene the trademark Slytherin scowl and sitting.

Two more Slytherins were seated at the table, Professor Selene deciding who would go where in the same manor. Slowly, the room filled with seated children. There was only a handful left standing when she suddenly jabbed her finger in Gwendolyn's direction.

"You come here," she ordered and Gwen followed the order wondering – not for the first time since she entered the room – why exactly she signed up for the class. Gwen had always been a bit more practical, then mystical. She figured that maybe part of her wanted to see what exactly those mystical mysteries held. Gwen figured she wanted to see what she was possibly missing out on. Now, however, she was thinking she was fine with missing out on this crock.

Gwendolyn sat down, and watched the professor poise herself above her, wondering who she would end up sitting with. So far, Professor Selene hadn't tried mixing the two houses. She sat Slytherins with Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs with Hufflepuffs. So, Gwendolyn logically thought that she was going to be sitting with one or two of the few Hufflepuffs still left standing. She was wrong. She didn't know _how_ wrong she really was.

"Interesting," Selene cooed, "I haven't felt a connection like this… oh my, interesting indeed."

Then she pointed at the last person Gwendolyn wanted to be in a room with, let alone sitting beside.

Tom Riddle was close to sputtering as he walked towards Professor Selene, the table, and Gwendolyn.

"Really, Professor, do you really think this is the best place for me?" he had covered up his initial irritation and was now nothing but charm. Gwendolyn wasn't fooled by a word of it.

A lot had changed for Gwen since her first year of Hogwarts, but one thing that hadn't was Tome Riddle. He was still as mysterious as ever, with those strange expressive, yet mysterious dark eyes. Gwendolyn had managed to make a few observations that gave her a certain opinion of him. An opinion that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. At least that's what she thought. What, however, hadn't changed the most, and irritated Gwendolyn much more than that one Mudblood incident was that he still made her curious. He still had some mysterious hold on her that she couldn't get out of. There was still something strange about him that made her – despite her best logic – want him. Riddle fascinated her to no-end, and yet Tom seemed to have no interest, better yet, no care for her.

"Aw, Riddle can't sit next to the 'ittle Mudblood," Gwendolyn cooed irritated-ly; the room tensed at the crude name she had referred to her self so freely.

Professor Selene looked at her sharply, "Ms. Night, we do not want that language in this room."

"I'm sorry Professor but I was just saying what he was thinking," Gwendolyn apologized looking up at the two from her seat by the table.

"Be that as it may Miss Night it is not an excuse. Please don't let me hear that word uttered again," Professor Selene said making her frail voice sound surprisingly firm, "and please sit down Mr. Riddle, I have a _very _strong feeling that this is the best place for you."

Tom nodded at the professor a resigned smile playing across his face, but not quite reaching his eyes, which remained dark, and guarded, "As you wish, Professor."

The colour in Professor Selene's face rose when Tom smiled at her. It appeared to Gwendolyn, much to her ultimate disgust, that the Professor was trying hard not to giggle. As it was, a silly grin had spread across her face.

_Oh, good lord, _Gwendolyn thought as Selene moved on to seating the rest of the class, _she's got a _crush_ on him._

It was absurd how much Tom had all the Professors, and everyone really, fooled. With his perfect class performance, and his perfect smile, everyone appeared to think that Tom Riddle was the _perfect_ example of how a wizard should be. They managed to miss the queer little things that seem to just happen around him. How nothing seemed to be pinned down to Tom, and yet all the little cruelties came straight from his cronies – Tom never appeared close enough to any of them to call friends – and Gwendolyn figured – rude as it sounded – that none of his cronies were smart enough to pull off all – ok let's face it, any – of those 'pranks'. Gwendolyn hated to admit it, but Tom was a brilliant wizard – probably the best of their time - and he could have easily done all of those things. He could have done them all single handedly no problem. Gwendolyn was certain about that.

Yet, none of the Professors seemed to process this. Some of them seemed to think just the opposite. There was so much more to Tom Riddle than the face he put on for the world. What was underneath may not have been all good, in fact Gwendolyn was certain that there was something quite sinister under his charming exterior, but whatever it was he was hiding, some part of Gwendolyn wanted to know what it was. The same part of Gwen that was intrigued by the mysterious little boy that rode across the black lake with her.

She became aware of someone sight irritated-ly, "Night, Night, Gwendolyn, Gwendolyn … Bloody hell pay attention, Gwendolyn Night," with on more irritated sigh, and a slight bang on the table, "Gwen!"

"What did you say," Gwendolyn's head snapped towards Tom, "Say that again."

"Night," Riddle said, a blank stare on his face.

"No, no, no the last part," Gwendolyn said in an irritated rush.

"Gwen," he said, and then sneered, "something's off in your head, Night."

She didn't hear his sneered remark thought, just the first part, just the 'Gwen'. _Gwen, Gwen, Gwen _it repeated in her head striking a cord, _bludger, Gwen duck! _

The way he said her name, the way he said Gwen was identical to the way that strange voice/thought had said it. It had to be the same person, but Riddle? That didn't make sense. Riddle didn't think of her, in fact he specifically didn't like her Mudblood self. So what did he care if a bludger bludgeoned her head? Made no difference to him, in fact he would have been happy if it had hit her, Gwendolyn was sure; so why did he warn her, and a better question, how?

''You need anything else, Night?" Riddle asked his eye brows raised questioningly and his face innocent. Gwendolyn, however, noticed something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. A certain look of understanding, surprise… and unless she was mistaken, fear?

"Nope, I just wanted to make you say my name," Gwendolyn lied with a sphinx-like smile, "Now, what did _you _want, Riddle?"

"To tell you to go get our crystal ball," Riddle told her with a brilliant, innocent, charming smile.

It appeared that class had moved on while Gwendolyn was dreaming. It also appeared that Riddle was lazy.

Gwen took great care to give Riddle her best glare as she walked away from the table.

"I do not believe you can tell the future from this thing," She mumbled as she picked up the clear glass sphere filled with what looked like swirling white smoke. She admitted to herself that it appeared more legitimate than the old snow globe she use to use to 'see the future' but only just.

"It's all yours," she said, unceremoniously dropping it on the table she now shared with Tom, causing it to nearly roll off the table, "I do not 'foresee' myself foreseeing anything with that."

"I 'foresee' no one foreseeing anything with it if you keep throwing it around," Riddle all but growled as he pulled himself up form the position he had thrown himself into to save the crystal ball.

Under normal circumstances, Gwendolyn would have apologized for her lack of foresight that had almost broke the equipment, and in fact the apology had been on the tip of her tongue, but then Riddle's snarled remark reminded her who exactly she was talking to; she was certain she would never hear an apology from him, so she wasn't going to give him one.

"Aw, Riddle, it didn't hurt you in anyway," was Gwen's airy response instead, "just set it up… assuming it needs setting up, how should I know?"

Riddle gave her an icy glare – which she was sure, surpassed her own glare – and put it on a stand in the middle of the table.

"Now, I want you and the people sitting with you to all look into your crystals and discuss what you see," Professor Selene said, for once sounding passionate, "Remember, feel the future, see the future."

Gwendolyn snorted rather unattractively, as she stared at the swirling masses in her ball. _Feel the future, see the future? What a load of poppy-cock!_

"Well… I see… white stuff," Gwen said in a dull voice, "I predict a lot of fog in your future."

Riddle gave her an unimpressed glance as she chuckled at her own joke.

"Aw, come on Riddle, you have to lighten-up sometime. You can't spend all your time… I don't know… on world domination," Gwendolyn told Riddle who was starring intently at the crystal ball. If anyone in the room was really trying to 'feel the future' than it was Tom.

As Gwen thought about it, she'd never really seen Riddle play or joke like other kids. He'd always been dark brooding and serious. He'd always been… well, mysterious.

At the present moment he was breaking eye contact with the orb to say to Gwen, "I don't spend my time on world domination."

Gwendolyn's smile widened mischievously, "'I think doth does protest too much' you do, don't you. You dream about yourself on top of some hill, crowning the world Riddle-topia, with legions of minions bowing at your feet… so tell me, which of your fellow

Slytherins is your reining queen?"

Instead of answering, Riddle just gave her another icy stare, this one, if anything worse than the last.

"If looks could kill," Gwen mumbled porously looking else where.

A few minutes later Tom spoke again, "You know Night if you actually kept an open mined and tried you might just see something."

The words weren't spoken harshly, nor were they intended to be nice… they were just a statement. A statement, however, was probably the nicest thing Tom had said to her in three years; it took Gwendolyn off guard.

It almost made her feel bad about bursting his divination bubble – almost.

"Ok then, _tom, _tell me do you have an open mind?" shed asked sweetly.

"Yes"

"And are you trying?"

The answer wasn't needed it was obvious he was.

Gwen's smile widened, "and tells me, Mr. Open mind and trying… what do _you _see?"

The silence was all she need in form of response, "See, Riddle… it's just poppy-cock, not all magic is real... we can expect it to be… this is just, Poppy-co-hello Professor."

Gwendolyn stopped her rant against divination as Professor Selene cam up to their table. She figures it was best not to get on the Professor's bad side on the first day. She would wait for at least a week before she did that.

"How are you kids doing? Can't you just _feel_ the future in the air?" Professor Selene asked leaning down to table level, "Tell me what you have."

At that request Gwendolyn and tome exchanged a glance, in that moment they were no longer enemies, they were just two students with nothing to tell the teacher. The look said just that. They know that between the two of them, only one 'prediction' had been made.

Gwendolyn sighed, _well there goes her not hating me on the first day, _"Well, Professor Selene what I predicted-"

"What she means to say is what _I_ predicted was that there will be a lot of fog coming your way," Tom interrupted Gwen with a charming smile.

Professor Selene gave him a disappointed stare while Gwendolyn openly gapped at him. What was he doing? Why was Tom Riddle covering for her? He had been the one actually trying; Gwen was the one mocking it. Yet, he was going to take the fall for their communal lack of results when they both knew it was more or less her fault. IT didn't make sense. Riddle wasn't acting like Riddle and Gwen was very confused.

"Mr. Riddle, I expected more from you than a witty response," Selene told the usually star pupil in a disappointed voice.

Gwendolyn was propelled by a sudden urge to defend Riddle – _defend Riddle!_ Something was wrong with the world – "It's probably not his fault. I think our Crystal is faulty. Which would probably be my fault anyways, because in my hast to start this class I tossed it at Tom, and it surely would have smashed had he not saved it."

Gwendolyn had been talking rather quickly; not stopping to take any breaths in her rush to clean Tom's name. She was out of breath when she finished.

The silence that followed only lasted a few minutes but it felt, to Gwendolyn, like it lasted forever.

Finally the professor spoke, "You threw one of my crystal balls."

"It was more of a toss… but yes," Gwendolyn whispered looking at her feet.

She honestly didn't think she broke anything but Professor Selene looked absolutely horrified at the thought.

"Of course, it might just be fine, and we're just the problems," Tom interjected once again defending Gwen and throwing her through a loop, "I'm sure a talent like yours wouldn't get stumped by it. If you see something in it, than we will know that Gwendolyn didn't break it."

There it was again. The ay he said her name just sat at the back of her head, nagging her, but of course that couldn't be right. She was just crazy.

"Excellent idea," Selene beamed at Riddle, who was obvious back in her good books, and then she raised her voice, "Class I want you to watch an example."

Gwendolyn eyes widened and mouth dried as she realized Professor Selene intended to do this in front of the class. She was sure her tiny toss hadn't done anything to the crystal orb but that didn't mean Professor Selene wouldn't act like it did. Gwendolyn wouldn't put it past her.

She held her breath as the Professor locked her gaze on the orb; it seemed like time stopped. Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to days. Gwendolyn was sure that the next words that would come out of her professor's mouth would bring her imminent doom Divination wish.

What actually happened, however, Gwen never in a million years would have expected that.

Suddenly, Professor Selene's eyes widen. She kept looking up between the crystal ball, Tom, and Gwendolyn.

"Oh My… my, oh my."

It took Gwendolyn a few seconds to realize that Professor Selene 'saw something'. She let out the breath she was holding in relief. That relief was short lived however.

"I knew there was a strong pull between you two," she breathed.

"Pardon, Professor?" Gwendolyn asked before she gave herself a change to think about it.

Professor Selene looked at her in wonderment, "Why, my dear, it's quite simple, Love, more than that True Love, Soul Mates."

**To Be Continued**

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A/N: **The next chapter should be up soon! I promise... I already have it written on paper, I just need to type it up


	4. October 27, 1945

**A/N: **So, here it is, updated soon just like I promised I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but Gwendolyn and her little world/ band of friends.

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**October 27, 1945 (continued)**

Gwen still didn't get it, or perhaps it was that she still didn't _want _to get it.

"Why child," Selene said rather condescendingly when she read Gwendolyn's confused expression, "Don't you see…"

Slowly the facts started adding themselves up for Gwendolyn.

"Wait… You don't mean me and…" she trailed off and turned towards Tom Riddle.

Tom's face was as unreadable as ever; his dark eyes, for once, were endless pits where one could easily get lost in. The only sign that there was some reaction was that Gwendolyn thought his face looked slightly paler than its usual pale.

That couldn't be right. As Professor Selene nodded her head Gwendolyn knew without a doubt that she was a fraud. There was no way that Riddle, _Riddle, _could be her… soul mate? There was absolutely no way… was there? No, no, no it wasn't true, it wasn't… it couldn't… could it? He was… he was Riddle, and yet…

Someone in the now silent room giggled, bring Gwendolyn back to the present and all the absurdity she felt about the situation was about to come spilling out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said in a soft, unnaturally calm voice, "that's not… I can't… if you had said anything, anything else… I would have… could have… but that's… that's just… it's Riddle, how? … I'm sorry, that is impossible," and before anything else could happen, before anything else could come out of her mouth, she jumped up and left the room.

Her pace quickened once she was out of the room. She wanted to get away from the room and that… prediction. _But it wasn't really a prediction, not really, _she told herself as she slowed to a stop and leaned against the wall for support, _it couldn't be a prediction because it couldn't be true, it wasn't… was it? How could it be? _

"Night," Gwendolyn was surprised that her head turned in response considering she knew there was only one person who called her by her surname off of the Quidditch pitch, and it was the one person she should want to talk to least.

"What would you like, Riddle?" she sighed pushing herself away from the wall.

Tom's face was as blank as it had been in the class room, and he was holding her book-bag. Gwendolyn hadn't even realized she had forgotten it until that very moment. Why had he brought it? He must have had an alterative motive. It wasn't like Riddle to just bring her bag out of kindness. What did he care about it?

"You forgot this," he said in a monotone. No emotion appeared in his body language or voice.

He had just brought her book bag. He set it down on the ground and then gave it a small kick over the invisible line between the two of them. The invisible line that neither of them was going to cross and both were treading very lightly around. They were acting like boys and girls at their first dance – or how they say boys and girls act at their first dance.

Gwendolyn slowly bent over and carefully picked up the bag. She paused; silently bringing the bag into her chest and holding it there like her life-line. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what was going on. Everything was all of a sudden very … strange.

Tom paused too. He stood there silent; his blank stare never leaving Gwen's face. It was like he didn't know what was going on anymore than Gwen did.

It was the first time the two of them had been close to each other physically without all the animosity since the first few months of their first year. It was having a strange effect on them.

After a few seconds that felt more like a few hours, Gwendolyn gave Tom a slight nod and an uncertain smile, and turned to leave.

"Why is it so impossible," Tom finally spoke as she was about to walk away. His voice was still a monotone with not a trace of emotion. It was a question that should have been asked with great feeling, pain or determination perhaps, but instead Tom Riddle was asking it like an outsider, an innocent bystander. He didn't even sound curious, "Am I really that un-loveable?"

Gwendolyn froze only a few steps away from where she had stared. Those words _am I really that un-loveable_ had stopped her in her tracks, and they would haunt her sleep for many years after that moment. The way he had said them, emotionless, like a poor actor just reciting lines made Gwen feel all the more emotion upon hearing them, like she had to make up enough emotion for the both of them.

"No," the word was out of her mouth before she even thought about it, "I just… Do you really want me to love you Tom?" _Tom, _Gwendolyn thought _where the heck did that come from? Since when did I start calling him Tom? _

There was a long pause after she asked it. Gwen had asked the question on the spur of the moment. Wanting to make Riddle understand… understand what? She wasn't even sure she wanted to hear the answer.

She found herself obviously dreading what would happen if he said yes, but she was surprised to find she feared what she would do if he said no so much more.

She tried desperately to read his unreadable face. She wanted to see what he was going to say; for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of something in his eyes, but then the moment was gone and the eyes were dark-pits again.

In the end she could bear to know the answer, "Tom- err, Riddle, the first time we talked you practically called me a Mudblood. The word had been on the tip of your tongue and we both know it. If you hadn't have caught yourself you would have said it, and you still couldn't stop yourself from thinking it; now if that doesn't scream romance, I don't know what does," Gwen's voice was heavy with sarcasm. She sighed and took a brave step over the invisible line, "You may have everyone else fooled with your charm, but… not me. I see through that. I notice things. I notice things about you, some of them not so nice things."

"Oh really, and what not so nice things have you seen?" Tom asked, his monotone hinted with something else, something that Gwen thought might have been longing or perhaps hope.

"Well, for starters, you're independent. That's not necessarily a bad thing, possibly a lonely thing, but if you want to live your life that way. Although, if we bring this back to the loveable thing, it makes it hard for someone to form a relationship with you. You have to let people in for them to care about you. It doesn't just happen… Your friends they're more like cronies rather than actual friends, even you can admit that.

"Of course, following in degrees of 'niceness' let say, is your perfectionism let's call it. You have to be the best at everything. If you're not the best at it you get kind of mad – which brings in your temper, but I'll come back to that- and of course you won't come back to those things you weren't good at. If you're not good at it Tom, well then it isn't worth doing, is it? Once again, this isn't exactly bad, or a problem. Hey, in some cases it's even good. You probably would have seen something in that crystal ball long before I ever did, but it does cause problems if you don't want to let other people shine. People don't want to be around the glory hog… I should know I use to be one.

"I guess we've reached your temper. You're pretty good at hiding it you know. Like in the class back there- you only showed signs of wanting to hit something for a few seconds before you were back to Mr. Charming when Selene sat us together. That temper is there, however, and you may want to work on that one. Hiding it is fine I guess, but you know if it just goes flaring off… well not a pretty sight."

Gwendolyn paused. She was coming up to her main point. She was careful; making sure she was looking him straight in the eyes as she continued.

"Finally, and we have reached the height of our 'niceness' scale, or the not so niceness in this case, there is just something about you. Trouble for others seems to fly around you, and yet, blame never, _never, _lands on you, not once. You escape blame every time, yet we should all know that your cronies, they aren't smart enough to pull off any of those things. Now you, you Tom, you could have done them all easily. You're a good wizard, talented – that perfectionism thing may come into play here – really talented actually. Now, even if I'm wrong and you didn't do those things – which I'm not but for the sake of argument – something in your eyes still changes, darkens, when something 'unfortunate' happens to someone else. It's like you get some… enjoyment out of their pain.

"This is the one you need to get checked out. This is the one I got a problem with. This one is your problem. You like other's pain; you inflict it; you enjoy it."

Gwen paused again, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.

"That is the real reason why what Professor Selene just 'predicted' is so impossible. It's not that _you_ are so un-loveable. Some Slytherin, I'm sure, could love that quality, but _I_ just can't."

Without another word, without another sound, Gwendolyn turned on her heal and walked out.

|~*~|

Tom Riddle crept out into the night. No one saw him. No one ever saw him unless he wanted them to. He was out for a night of 'mischief'. Mischief wasn't exactly the right word. That implied no harm was intended, and well that wasn't exactly the way it was going to go down.

Tom silently slipped into the Quidditch shed.

When the Slytherin Quidditch captain had asked him to do this, he hadn't even hesitated. Tom hadn't been allowed to hesitate. The monster had popped up eager to do more damage, to see more pain, but now Tom had managed to fight back; he fought back using her words.

_You like other's pain; you inflict it; you enjoy it. _She was right, but it wasn't how she thought. It wasn't that simple. _Some Slytherin, I'm sure, could love that quality, but I just can't._

Tom couldn't either. Every time, he hated himself more and more, that is until the monster took control again.

"Oh god," he managed to voice out loud, "What am I doing?"

His hand was held haltingly, wand poised over the bludger. He didn't know, at least at that point in time, who exactly he'd be hurting that time, but he could imagine the outcome just as easily. The creature roared with happiness at the gruesome scene. Tome shied away from it in his head.

_No, I'm not going to let this happen._

_Do it._

_I can't hurt another person_

_Just shut your bloody trap and do it._

_No, not again… Gwen's right I'm a monster!_

_Forget the bloody girl, she's worthless- she weakens us!_

_I… I… can't…_

_Yes, _the monster roared as Tom was shoved, once again, away from the controls, and his wand swung. The spell was cast, the die had been thrown; the monster in control of Tom walked away satisfied with the mayhem it knew would ensue tomorrow. If only they had known – the monster and Tom both – who would be the victim of that mayhem.

|~*~|

Gwen was glad for the perfect distraction Quidditch gave her.

It had been almost three weeks since the disastrous divination class, and Gwen had thought of almost nothing else. No matter what she did Tom – seriously when had she started calling him by his first name? – popped up into her head.

The only way to keep her mind Riddle free was to get on her broom and fly around, or better yet, focus on a game.

They were playing Slytherin, and were – quite predictably – winning. Slytherin didn't have a very good team; their only asset was their complete ignorance of the rules.

It was about halfway into the game, Hufflepuff was up about 100, and Gwendolyn had gained the Quaffle once again when she noticed out of the corner of her eye that no matter where she turned one of the Bludgers kept curving towards her. She shook her head, and went on to score another goal.

A short time later, however, she had to swerve drastically to avoid a near collision with the same bludger that had been hit by her own beater!

"Billy," she hollered at the bewildered beater, "watch where you aim that thing."

It was as she hollered to her beater she started getting a vague feeling of dread, but even as it started going away she knew it hadn't been her dread. It was like the voice, from before.

It only got worse, and quickly. Soon there was not a second when the bludger wasn't coming after her. It became very obvious that someone had jinxed it.

It took Gwen a few minutes to get through her own panic and exhaustion as she sped away from the rouge ball, to realize that the voice, the one that wasn't hers yet was in her head, was back. Only it wasn't warnings it was giving this time. This time it was like it didn't even know she could hear him.

_Oh god, not her! It can't be her… oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, please god, I didn't know! _

The voice sounded guilty. Gwendolyn didn't have much time to ponder this, however, because the bludger was coming at her again.

By this time the whole school had notice Gwen and her bludger problem. Edward was squawking something out over to the crowd, but Gwendolyn didn't have time have time to listen to him or the voice or anyone.

The bludger came over top of her, aiming for the head no doubt, and she spun around her broom in an attempt to avoid it. She avoided the bludger fine but she didn't manage to pull herself back up on her broom. She dangled from her broom high above the ground with little hope of getting back on. From that position she had no control over her broom, and instead of lowering, as she would have preferred, her broom was taking her higher into the air.

Suddenly, a few things happened. First the broom stopped rising, the crowd let out an audible gasp and Gwen saw the bludger turn and come straight at her.

Gwen looked up at her broom. It wasn't going to move, and she didn't have time to get back on it. She had to make a split second choice, stay where she was and take the bone shattering blow from the bludger or – she let go.

Through the air she went sailing, and the last thing she remembered before she blacked out was the voice that wasn't hers, _I'm sorry, I didn't know, I should have known… I'm sorry._

|~*~|

The pain was there. Low and always throbbing, but Gwendolyn decided that for falling over 100 feet it could have been worse.

Glenn had been there when she had woken up, so had Evelyn, and the Quidditch team had all come to visit at least once. Gwendolyn was grateful to all of them, but there was one person she wanted to see the most, one person who – as she had expected anyways – didn't come.

She could have sworn sometimes, when she was asleep that there was another presence there – someone who wasn't Glenn who was around almost 24/7 - , beside her bed, but whenever she woke up she was alone.

After a week of having madam Rensal hovering over her, making sure she didn't get 'worked up' she was allowed to leave. She didn't tell Glenn or even Evelyn about her up coming freedom; she loved them both, they were her best friends, but she couldn't have them hovering around her treating her like an invalid. It was just a little Quidditch injury. If she wished to be serious about it – which she was considering - she would have to get use to those things. They happened, she wasn't going to die.

Gwendolyn was so wrapped up in her own thoughts as she left the hospital wing that she ran right into the person waiting outside. She would have fallen right on her face – and taken him down too – if he hadn't caught her.

"Riddle," Gwen said unable to keep the surprise out of her voice as he helped her right herself, "What are you doing here?"

"I… I…" Riddle was quite honestly – and uncharacteristically – a mess. He wasn't his usual smooth, classy self at all, "I came to see you."

Gwen had never seen Riddle so unlike himself. It was making her a little unnerved. _Why did he want to see me?!_

"Well, you've seen me," she said and started walking down the corridor. She was surprised when he followed her.

"They let you out?" he asked as if he was actually trying to make conversation. Gwendolyn had no idea what was going on.

She was so flustered by these acts that she just blurted, "Riddle, what, on earth, are you doing?"

"I can't ask you questions?" he asked like it was the most innocent thing in the world.

Gwen stopped walking, "You could, I guess, if you weren't Tom Riddle. We haven't talked for the sake of talking… since first year… first month."

She waited a few minutes but when she was met with nothing but silence, she continued walking, and once again Tom followed.

After a long silence, "Why do you like Quidditch so much? You end up in so much… danger."

Gwendolyn looked at Tom out of the corner of her eye. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was she decided to play along.

"For the same reason you like everything you do," she told him, "I'm good at it… I'm really, really good at it."

They walked silently on.

"I'm sorry," he suddenly just blurted.

"What?" Gwen said stopping dead.

"I said… I'm sorry," he repeated quietly, "I didn't know."

Gwen felt cold as he repeated the words she had repeated to herself so many times since the accident.

She decided to play dumb, "Sorry for what? You didn't know what?"

"You know what for… I know… I know you heard me… before," Gwen paused; her eyes widening as he confirmed what she had suspected for a long time. Suddenly, she sped up, walking – almost running – away.

"Gwendolyn!" Tom called chasing after her down the hall, "wait."

"Would you be sorry," she said gasping slightly, "if it had been anyone else? Would you?"

He paused staring at her, his dark eyes showing some sign of conflict, "Yes… no… it's complicated… I can't…"

Gwendolyn turned abruptly and started down the hall again. She wasn't going to stand around listening to excuses. She didn't need to hear what she already knew.

"Night, will you stop walking away!" he hollered.

"Ah, there's that anger I know and love," she cooed, "Tom, you said sorry; I listened; now unless you have something specific and important to say to me, than I am going to walk away, and I'm not going to stop this time."

"Will you go on a date with me?"

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hoped you enjoyed that. I will try and update soon, but I got a lot of school work and stuff, so it may take a little while, though - even though I told myself I'd never do this, here I am doing it - reviews are helpful in motiviation, and helping my writing. I love feed back. What you like, what you didn't like tell me it all. I want to make this story better for the reader. So I guess, please review.


	5. September 1, 1946

**A/N: **Ok, so I know that it has been a really, really, really long time since I have updated this story. I know I have no excuse. I can only say that I got a little disheartened with this chapter, and then let school work take priority. But no more. It is now summer, and I have an abundence of free time, and I promise to update about once a week. Hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything form the HP world. All of that is J. K. Rowling's.

* * *

**September 1****st**** 1946**

_"Ah, there's that anger I know and love," she cooed, "Tom, you said sorry; I listened; now unless you have something specific and important to say to me, than I am going to walk away, and I'm not going to stop this time."_

_"Will you go on a date with me?"_

_Gwendolyn stopped short. She froze, her foot dangling above the ground halfway through the act of taking a step. She couldn't believe her ears. She must of miss heard him. There was no way, after everything that had been said between them, that Riddle, _Tom Riddle_ was asking _her_ on a date._

_They must have let her out of the hospital wing too early. There must have been something wrong with her head. This was all just a dream. _

_"Wait… huh… wh-" Gwen asked unable to make complete questions as her foot slammed into the ground, "Excuse me?"_

_"You heard me?" he smirked._

_"I'm not entirely sure I did."_

_Riddle just continued to smirk at her. His charm and calm demeanor was slowly coming back to him – whatever freak of nature which had, for a moment, caused him to act like a human being had passed._

_"If you heard me asking to spend time with you in a romantic form, than you did," he replied an impish grin growing on his decidedly handsome face._

_Gwendolyn continued to stand there struck dumb by what had just passed. Maybe it had been Tom, not her that fallen over 100 feet. _

_Her brain just could not process what Tom was asking her, and yet when it did what it came up with scared her._

_"You're daft Riddle," she said strongly shaking her head. _

_Her heart was suddenly beating wildly and echoing in her ears. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't be acting like this. She was just – _

_"So, that would be a no?" his voice was calm and devoid of emotion. In classic Riddle style he failed to have a reaction._

_"Of course it's a no!" Gwendolyn said, throwing her hands in the air, and as usual feeling like her reaction was too over the top when compared to Riddle's, "I told you when that old crock gave her cock-and-bull prediction – you and I, us, Riddle its bloody ridiculous!"_

_"I don't know," Riddle said slowly as if in deep thought, "I must say despite your obvious… flaw, I think you could make a lovely companion. You are quite powerful you know."_

_Gwen scoffed, "'Powerful'? 'Flaws'? Wow Riddle, you really know how to woe a girl." She turned on her heal, ready to leave this insanity behind, "I never knew you felt that way."_

_Although she didn't see it, something strange happened to Tom then. His calm demeanor suddenly fell away to be taken over by a strange desperation._

_"I don't!" the way the words ripped through his through as if they were a matter of life and death made Gwendolyn stop, and despite her better judgment turn around._

_But by the time she had turned around, that odd, desperate Tom was gone, and the usual git was in his place. _

_"You don't what?" _

_"I don't see your problem," he replied coolly._

_Gwendolyn paused. Something had happened to Tom, the way his voice had changed in a matter of moments… but having not seen the way his face changed Gwen would never be able to put her finger on it._

_With a shake of her head, she wrote it off as a play to get her to feel sorry for him and disgusted with the way she fell for it she turned to walk away before she could do something she'd regret._

_"I'm not going to go on a date with you Tom."_

_"Don't worry," Tom called as she walked away, "you will" – _

The train took a sudden corner and Gwendolyn smacked her head painfully off the window she had been gazing out of, knocking her from her memories and back to reality.

"So," Evelyn said seeing that Gwendolyn was back among the world, "do you think Mr. Slytherin is going to continue his pursuit this year?"

Gwendolyn let out a grown and banged her head against the window once more. This time intentionally.

Although she had turned him down outside of the hospital wing, Tom Riddle was nothing if not persistent.

After the first rejection, he continued to hound her for dates in all manners of ways. When it had seemed just asking was not going to work, Tom decided that perhaps some pressure would induce her to say yes. Soon his requests were becoming grander, and much more public. It wasn't long before the whole school knew the Tom Riddle wanted Gwendolyn Night.

"God, I hope not," she sighed, turning to Evelyn.

The only question left was why? Why did Tom want Gwen so badly? She didn't know, and what was worse was she never knew what Riddle she would get.

Most of the time she was badgered by the usual overconfident git, but rarely, she got this shy, desperate guy who seemed to believe he needed her to survive.

It was all so disorienting; Gwendolyn never knew what to do.

"I don't know," Evelyn said hedging in a way that said she doubted her friends discomfort, "he is pretty good look – for a Slytherin."

"Exactly! 'For a slithering – you felt like you had to qualify that," Gwen drove on ignoring the part of her brain that was agreeing with her friend.

Evelyn did look impressed, "Hmm – I guess, but still—"

"Still nothing!" Gwendolyn finally burst, "He's slimly and slick and thinks he's all that and I am never going to accept him."

"Whatever you say." Evelyn didn't seem to be quite seeing this in the light it aught to be given. She shrugged casually, and looked around the compartment, only to gaze back at Gwen and smirked, "well, don't look now."

Gwendolyn followed her friend's gaze and groaned. Silhouetted against the frosted glass window of the compartment was the frame of a teenage boy. There was only one teenage boy that Gwen could think it could be, and she really, really wished it wasn't.

"Just kill me now!"

"That could be arranged." Glenn walked in and flopped back down on bench beside her.

Relief flooded over her, "Oh thank God it's only you."

"Who else would it be?" he gave her a quizzical look, "No offense Night, but you don't have a lot of gentleman callers."

Gwen shoved his shoulder playfully, "That a nice thing to say to your best friend!"

"Hey, I said no offence."

"And that makes it better," Gwen laughed, before lowering herself in her seat and grumbling, "Besides I have more than I care for in –"

"Heard you were looking for me Night," Riddle invited himself into their compartment; he was leaning against the edge of the door and smirking infuriatingly.

Gwen grimaced and leaned her head against the cold window as her heart gave an embarrassingly excited lurch.

Why her? What had she done to deserve this? What did Riddle think he was going to prove by constantly harassing her? Why couldn't he get his jollies off of some other poor unexpecting kid? She was tired of it being her.

Except for one, tiny part of her that was just tired of her saying no.

"You should really check your information before you follow it," Gwendolyn grumbled.

If he would just get away from her than she would be safe. If he would just leave her alone she would never have to be scared of what she might do.

Instead of leaving or even getting angry – both of which would have been preferable – Tom just got a certain gleam in his eye that made her stomach lurch in what she hoped was disgust but she feared was something much different.

"Now, were you avoiding _me _or _yourself?_" his tone was both mysterious and annoyingly superior.

Gwen blinked at him, "Wait… wha-at?"

Instead of answering her very ill proposed question, Riddle just looked at Glenn's hostile stare and smirked, "We'll see each other later – we can catch up, _alone_."

Her stomach lurched once more, and she was left staring at the closed compartment door long after he had left.

"What is with that guy?" Glenn sounded as irritated as Gwendolyn should have.

She should have been irritated? Shouldn't she? And yet all she felt was an odd dazed sensation.

She shrugged slowly and a long moment after Glenn asked the question managed to mumble, "I don't now."

* * *

"What am I doing?" Gwendolyn asked herself later that evening as she walked back and forth outside the great hall, "I am just asking for trouble… so much trouble."

She wasn't entirely sure when the paper had been slipped into her pocket, but once she had found it, Tom had left her without a doubt of who put it there.

_Meet me outside the Great Hall_.

It was what it had said – and she had sworn to ignore them, ignore him.

When she had first read it, halfway through dinner, her head had snapped up, Riddle's words ringing through her head.

_"We'll see each other later – we can catch up, _alone_."_

Riddle, across the room gave her a bold and confident smirk, and refused to lose eye contact even when she met his. There was no doubt in her mind who left the not.

And yet almost as soon as she had looked away, she had found herself making excuse about having to use the lavatory and going out into the corridor.

It was stupid, it was dangerous, and yet her she was doing it.

She had agreed to meet Tom, of her own free will.

"I'm an idiot, a bloody idiot," she whispered to herself as she continued to pace, "This is just so… stupid – I should go—"

Gwendolyn turned back toward the door to the Great Hall only to be stopped by there opening.

Riddle stopped just beyond the soft glow of the candles, "I didn't think you would come."

His voice was devoid of all emotion and Gwen couldn't see his face, as it was hidden by the shadows. She couldn't tell if she had gotten the cocky git or someone else. She wasn't sure which she preferred.

"Yeah, well neither did I," she mumbled all the while thinking of what a mistake this whole thing was.

It was true that the cocky git was very taxing, but Gwendolyn was always left fearing just what she'd do when met with the other Tom.

"Why did you?" His voice was as flat as ever but Gwendolyn thought she detected some sensitivity hidden below if. Of course, that was wishful thinking, more likely than not.

She shrugged and forced her feet to move forward. She couldn't keep standing there, "I don't know – Dippit is going to start soon, and I had been eyeing that pudding all night."

"Gwen, please," the words ripped through his throat dripping with a mingle of pain and desperation, "don't—"

She stopped and whirled around on her heals, "Don't what, Tom?"  
She had turned around angry, fed up with his back and forth emotions, but his tone softened the blow of hers.

"Don't-don't," he was stuttering over his words; it was like something was trying to keep him from speaking, but that was silly wasn't it? He had free will. The only person that could stop him from speaking was him.

He had stepped out of the shadows as she had walked, trying to get her to stop, and that was how she was able to see it.

One moment he was almost human, and the next he was back to his cold shiny self. It had happened so many times before, and had always left Gwen reeling, but this time she actually saw it.

She saw him change.

It wasn't much, just a subtle change of features, a lift of the shoulders, and a twitch of the lips. The only thing that really caused her to think of it, to think that she had imagined it was the eyes. One moment, they were open, for once she was able to see right into their depths, and the next they were blank as if they were windows and the blinds had been closed.

It took only seconds, and then they were as black and endless as ever – and Gwen was left as confused as before.

"Don't leave before I get to ask my question," he said, smooth as ever, his cold smirk flipping into place.

Despite watching him turn back into his normal self, Gwendolyn felt her heart plummet with disappointment. She had hoped, for a moment, that somehow something had changed. She had hoped... it was foolish to hope.

"No," she said flatly, turning away from him.

Riddle wasn't deterred at all, "I didn't even ask yet."

"The answers still no." She continued to walk away.

"Gosh, that isn't much of the Hufflepuff attitude, now is it?" Riddle's voice was tauntingly cheery.

Gwen stopped her hand on the doors. Although her mind was there, scream at her to keep moving, her feet wouldn't respond.

Riddle had gotten to her.

"Fine," she said defiantly, before continuing in sugary sweet voice, "Please, if you will Mr. Riddle, tell me what it is you would like to know."

Tom walked forward, smirking the whole time, until he was standing right in front of her.

"Will you ever say yes?"

She met his unwavering stare.

"No."

She paused a moment.

"Will you ever stop asking?"

His eyes never left hers.

"No."

* * *

The months went by without incident after that.

Tom did keep to his word, everyday he would find an opportunity to ask, and everyday Gwendolyn would say no. Since their talk though, Tom had never made a big deal out of the question. It had seemed that they had come to some sort of understanding. They both knew where the other stood, and now all that was left was to wait for one of them to break.

As far as Gwen was concerned it would have to be Tom, for she was never going to say yes.

It wasn't any surprised, that by mid-November, things had reached such a calm, that she had over slept for her morning class.

"Where's Bins?" Gwendolyn whispered as she slipped into her seat beside Evelyn. She was surprised that the History of Magic professor was later than herself.

The calm that all had been experiencing was going to burst.

Evelyn shrugged, "No idea – hasn't showed up yet."

This was a shock. Although Bins was by far the world's most boring teacher, he was also the world's most committed. He was always punctual, and he was always prepared.

For him to be late for class was… strange.

Although, as she glanced around the room, Gwendolyn realized that she was one of the only ones who thought so.

"So, you've been asked yet?" Evelyn loved to keep track of Tom's chase of her friend.

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, "It's not even ten yet, Eve. I wasn't at breakfast. When do you think he would have asked me?"

"He's committed enough to chase you down," Evelyn replied as if it was obvious.

Gwendolyn sighed and leaned tiredly on her desk. The sad thing was Evelyn's statement was true.

Although she had acted as if question was ridiculous, she herself had been relieved to make it into the classroom un-pestered.

"He didn't ask yesterday," Gwen said hopefully, "maybe he gave up."

Evelyn looked miffed that thought, "He can't do that! I'll loose my bet if he does that."

"Your bet?" Gwendolyn asked incredulously.

"Yes… really it was quite profitable," Evelyn stumbled for an excuse having the decency to look sheepish at being caught, "The whole school is betting on whose going to break first."

"And you picked me!" Gwendolyn asked throwing her head onto her desk. _This is great, just great! _She thought bitterly, _exactly what I need today. _

"Not exactly," Evelyn hedged, "I merely…"

Gwendolyn never got to hear what her friend merely did.

At that moment their professor arrived and all thoughts of Tom and anything else left both girls' head.

"It that?" Gwendolyn asked in a faint, almost weak, voice.

"Uh-huh."

"Is-is he?"

"I think so."

"But how?"

` Evelyn just shook her head.

Bins had arrived, however, instead of using the door like he usually did, he had arrived through the chalkboard.

He was a ghost.

He was dead.

Gwendolyn suddenly felt cold as memories she didn't want to have came flooding back to her. She pushed them back angrily. She couldn't deal with them right now. She didn't ever want to deal with them. They were the one thing she wished would go away more than Tom Riddle.

"Do you think we should…?" Evelyn's voice trialed off as she become unsure.

"What?"

"I don't know… do something?"

"But do what?"

Evelyn just shook her head again, "I don't know."

The girls settled into an uncomfortable silence as the spell that had been holding the rest of the class still broke and they all started to murmur.

Making matters worse, Bins didn't appear to have noticed anything was wrong. As he had every other day, he had just settled himself into his seat and started his class.

Gwendolyn's discomfort grew as she wanted the ghostly representation of her once alive teacher walk about the front of the room.

This wasn't the first ghost she had seen, not even close. Hogwarts was filled with them, but ever since… that, she had always felt uncomfortable around them.

This was the first ghost, however, she had known. This was a ghost that only the day before she had seen eating dinner with the rest of the professors, and now, and now…

Again the memories started to flood her and the shock that had been taking over her body made it harder for her to push them back.

She had to do something. She had to –

Slowly, timidly, she raised her hand, "Excuse me, Professor?"

Silence enveloped the room once more. The class swiveled their attention between Gwendolyn, the professor, and then back again.

Bins stopped, looking startled and leaned forward trying to focus on Gwen, "Yes, Miss…" he paused struggling to pull the name from his memory, "Night?"

"Professor," she tried to look at him as if nothing was wrong, but his features swirled morphing into another's, making her stomach lurch and eyes prick; quickly she bowed her head to watch her hands smooth out her cloak, "would it be at all possible for me to go to the lavatory?"

The professor made a face that indicated his distain at this interruption, and waved his hand airily, "Yes, yes—if you must."

Avoiding the professor, Gwen grabbed her book bag, and got up.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn hissed.

"To get help," she replied walking behind her to get the door, "Someone other than us should know about this."

Gwen didn't mention that she couldn't stay in that room anymore. Her head was swimming with thoughts and emotion she was struggling to push back. She couldn't tell Evelyn, because she wouldn't understand. Evelyn didn't know.

No one knew.

Once out in the hall she took a deep breath. She would deal with her problems later. Right now she had to do what she had told Evelyn she was doing.

She had to get the Professor help.

They couldn't let Bins death go unnoticed by anyone but a bunch of twittering teenagers – Even if his wasn't as final as most.

There had to be someone who cared about him. Someone who would want to know, who would….

Looking both ways, she took her time, trying to get her bearings. Which way was the closest classroom?

Deciding her best bet was right, she turned that way, knocking on and opening doors as she went. Her heart sank as each room turned out to be empty, but she refused to give up. As long as she focused on Bins she wouldn't have time to think about James.

"Come in." Finally about ten minutes later she found a room with someone in it.

She opened the door gratefully to find herself the centre of attention from the other half of her year. She had interrupted the fourth year Slytherin and Ravenclaw Defense against the Dark Arts class.

Ignoring Tom Riddle's constant stare, which she became aware of almost the instant she opened the door, she turned towards the Professor.

"Why, Miss Night – you are looking quite pale. Do you need assistance to the Hospital wing?" Professor Dumbledore asked after taking in her visibly shaken appearance.

Gwendolyn felt herself flush, "No- no, I'm fine. That is I'm sure I will be in a few moments – I'm just suffering from a bit of a shock."  
"Is it anything I can help you with?" Dumbledore asked kindly, humoring her chaotic state of mind.

"Well yes—at least I hope so… you see it's Professor Bins."

"Oh dear, he was missing at breakfast this morning, has he fallen asleep and missed his class again? That would be the third this week."

"No-no… he was there… well at least part of him was," Gwendolyn swallowed deeply. Now that moment had come she was unable to say the actual words, "You see, sir, he sort of left his body behind."

The room quieted significantly at this news. She heard some snickering and a wave of 'about times' that she figured were from the Slytherin crowd, but the majority of the classroom, much like her, had been stunned into silence.

"Oh my, that is quite unfortunate," Professor Dumbledore responded, in his own way, with word that on anyone else, would have sounded insincere, "The headmaster must be informed of this. Thank you Miss Night – that must have been quite shocking indeed. Why don't you see Madam Rensal for a calming draft?"

Gwendolyn bowed her head slightly, "Yes sir, thank you."

With those final words, she backed out of the room, closing the door tightly behind her.

With her 'mission' done, all thought of Bins had finally and irrevocably left her head and she was suddenly let with only the painful memories his appearance had brought on.

Her arms started to shake and her eyes were brimming with unshed tears. She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't.

She had been on the verge of ignoring Dumbledore's suggestion, now, however, she was starting to think a calming draft was just what she needed.

Gwendolyn had barely managed to control the shaking and wipe away the few tears that had managed to escape before she heard footsteps echoing down the corridor behind her.

"Go away, Riddle."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't think you should be wandering the halls alone," was Tom's smooth response as he walked into step with her.

Gwendolyn turned away from him, making an effort to hide her face, "Dumbledore thought this or you?"

"Well," Tom said with transparently fake modesty, "I may have suggested it, but the Professor far from disagreed."

Gwendolyn sighed. This was the last thing she needed right now. Why couldn't the world just leave her alone in her misery?

Instead they had to add to it by sending –

"Hey," Tom grabbed at the hand that had started to shake again. Gwen pulled it away, "Something wrong?"

His tone had softened, and he was cracking back into the nice, but sometimes desperate Tom, but Gwen was too far gone to notice the difference, or even really care.

"Oh, I'm wonderful; just peachy!" Her voice was heavy and gargled with emotion. Her eyes had started brimming again, "Not a thing wrong with me. Why do you ask?"

Tome was quiet a moment, turning back into his self to think.

"This isn't just about Bins is it?"

"You think?" the stress of emotion was making Gwen snarky. If it was making Tom angry for once he wasn't showing it.

"I'd noticed… ever since last year you'd been avoiding the castle ghosts. I saw you cringe away from the grey lady a few weeks ago," although he was talking about Gwen, he spoke quietly, more as if he was talking to himself, than her, "Do you… do you want to talk about it?"

"No I really don't."

They took a few more steps, "Are you sure? I've heard—"

"Riddle, I don't want to talk, and even if I did the last person I would want to talk to would be you," Gwen all but barked at him.

They walked on in silence. Gwen figured after that blow he would leave her alone, but he stayed exactly where he was.

"Look," Gwen finally said wirily, her shoulders sagging, "I'm sorry… I'm just… if you're going to stay, it would be best if you just didn't talk, and if you think that _now _is a good time to ask me out again, so help me God, I will –"

"What kind of guy do you take me for?" he asked his usual smirk in place again, only this time there seemed to be something almost softer about it.

Gwen had to turn away to hide the almost smile that she found suddenly pulling at her lips.

Before long they had arrived at the hospital wing, and after Tom had quietly explained why they were there, she was sitting on a bed feeling the affects of the draft run through her system.

Once it had taken hold, she was left with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. All the strong emotions she had been fighting with had dulled and left her brain feeling numb.

After a while, she snuck a glance at Tom, who was quietly sitting in a chair beside her, reading a dingy old book. He hadn't said a word to her since she had asked him not to, and despite her waiting for it, his arrogant counterpart had yet to make a return visit.

"My brother was fifteen when the war started," the words started coming out of her mouth in a monotone all of their own accord, "he was always a head strong boy – he loved anything to do with fighting and what he thought of as bravery. So, obviously, he spoke of nothing but how he was going to get Hitler and his Nazi's until he was eighteen. The day of his eighteenth birthday, he enlisted."

Gwendolyn paused a moment. She stole a look at Tom. He had put his book down and was staring at her solemnly, he eyes as deep and dark as always.

"He had been shipped out to the fronts in a matter of months. Mum was worried. We all were, but except for a possible dampening of spirits, his letters kept coming. He seemed to be fine. After two years, maybe three years of going on like that, we heard whispers of an end. We let our hearts hope.

"Then, about a year ago – I had been home for Christmas—a man came to the door. He said he was sorry but James had been hit by shrapnel or artillery – what got him didn't really matter. The point was he wasn't ever coming home."

She paused a moment, turning for the first time to lock eyes with Tom.

"I'd never seen my mum cry so much – I though she'd never stop."

Tom paused for a moment, "I never understood muggle battles. They think they have so much power, but if only they knew…"

"I would give up all my powers if I could get my brother back."

"But what if you had the power to bring him back?" a hungry look was growing in his eyes as he spoke, "the power to keep yourself alive? To never die."  
Gwendolyn gave him a long hard look. In the past, his talk of power, and his hungry looks would have scared her, but now…

Now she wondered if there was something more, something sad, behind his demeanor.

She closed her hand around his.

"Powers or not, we are still human. We can't cheat death," she paused a moment, thinking of the ghosts she sees around the castle, "and if we try, I think we just end up regretting it."

Tom was quiet a long moment, deep in thoughts that Gwendolyn couldn't hope to understand. After a moment of this, she pulled her hand back.

"I'll be late for class," Tom said, suddenly pushing himself out of his seat, "I'll let Selene know where you are."

"Tom," she called suddenly, stopping him when he got to the door.

He turned to look at her, and for once, she thought she could see something deep in his dark eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

**a/n: **Ok, thank you so much for reading. I'm pretty sure that the books never meantion when Professor Bins died, and I figured that he had to have died some time, so why not now? Anyways, if I missed something and this does not relate with the books I'm sorry. Also, I would love for some reveiws. Tell me what you think - what you do like, what you don't. Constructive Critisim is both welcomed and encouraged.


	6. December 23, 1946

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but Gwendolyn, Glenn and Evelyn. The rest is all J.K Rowling's.

* * *

**December 23****rd****, 1946**

Gwendolyn watched her reflection as her hair lengthened and faded from a mousy brown into a shiny blonde, and then shortened, turning a bright pink as it went. Her eyes flashed blue and then gold, her pupils growing cat-like.

She was a freak; her heart sunk. She always knew that, but sometimes…

It was nice to forget for a while.

Time to forget, however, was over. Back at home now, she was ready to forget other things.

_Maybe, maybe _if she was someone else it wouldn't heart so much.

Slowly, she allowed her hair to grow long and blonde again, and her facial features slurred, so that before long her best friend was staring back at her. It should be easy to be Evelyn. She still had all her family; her Christmas was going to be normal, no empty stalking that shouldn't have been hung up in the first place, no long faces as the presents were handed out and mum realizes that she doesn't have any for James, that she'll never give any to James again.

No one was ever chasing Evelyn down the school corridors begging her for a date she didn't want.

Thought she didn't want – use to not want – feared that she wanted.

Gwendolyn shook her head, letting her features fall back to normal.

Being Evelyn was weird – wrong.

Because Gwendolyn was an anomaly; no one was like her. Gwendolyn was a freak.

As a small child she had realized that if she wished really heard, she could make herself look like other kids. She could change her hair, or eye colour. Small things at first, later she found she could change anything about herself she wanted.

It scared her.

What if she got stuck like that, and couldn't change back to herself – what if she already wasn't herself? Could she have changed as a baby, and never got back? What if she had a whole other face hidden somewhere – what if the face she had now was stolen?

Throughout her childhood she searched for this other person, but was never able to find it. She told herself she was being silly, but in the end, she never could be sure.

Gwendolyn always had that fear.

"I'd always wanted red hair," she mumbled to her reflection, still determined to be someone else.

She let red seep through the brown like blood and watched as the hair sprung up in a mess of untamable curls.

All good heroines needed vibrant unmanageable hair.

She wiggled her nose until it was small and button like. Gwen added a smattering of freckles and darkened her lips.

"There," she smirked her new lips sadly at the reflection, "Annemarie, how do you do?"

Gwendolyn could remember a time, very early in her youth, when she thought it had all been fun. That was before she realized that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't something everyone could do.

Then she felt alone, isolated; a freak. She overcompensated this feeling by being an overachiever – trying to do everything perfectly. It just made her more disliked.

When her Hogwarts letter came, she had a brief reprieve. She was a witch; it all made sense, no one else could do this because it was true, they weren't like her – but there were others that were. She wasn't alone.

She wouldn't be a freak.

But it took almost no time for her to figure out that what she could do wasn't any more common at Hogwarts, than it was at home.

Even at Hogwarts she was different. Even among everyone else's freaks, she was still a freak.

Now she was left keeping her strange talent hidden in the dark. Who knew what would happen if it came to light?

She raised a now red eyebrow at her reflection.

Maybe Tom would leave her alone.

That would be a good thing, wouldn't it?  
She started playing with her new hair, pinning it up into an elaborate bun.

"Annemarie," she said to her reflection, "is an independent woman, who has no attachments –"

Her words dyed into a small scream as she heard a faint tapping on her window. She whirled around, allowing her features to fade back to normal, her hair falling out of its holds as it became too short.

The owl cocked its head to its side, as if to make fun of her reaction.

Blushing, Gwendolyn waved her hand through her hair, working the now useless pins out of it, as a bashful grin grew across her face.

She was glad that no one but the animal saw her unnecessary freak out or her change from 'Annemarie' to her plain self.

She took a step towards the animal, curiosity peaking in her. It was probably just Eve or Glenn sending Christmas wishes but….

She didn't recognize the owl.

Shaking off her silly, uncertain thoughts, she opened the window to allow it in, and was surprised to find a small parcel, not a scroll, tied to its leg.

Gingerly, she untied it, and brought it too her ear; it made a loose jingling noise. What could it be?

The owl let out a squawk and flew back out the window.

Gwendolyn only gave it a cursory glance before going back to her parcel, unwrapping it with a combination of curiosity and hesitation. The paper fell away to reveal a small box, which, after checking over both shoulders, Gwen opened letting out a small gasp at what laid nestled inside.

Slowly, Gwen wrapped the simple silver chain around her hand, and pulled the necklace out for a closer look. Hanging from the chain was a small silver ball. In fact it almost looked like…

It was a quaffle!

Gwendolyn smiled down at the gift. It was perfect but…

But which of her friends sent it? There was no note. Flipping through the wrappings, Gwendolyn looked for a name she missed before, but there was none.

None at all.

Slumping back on her bed, Gwen turned to examining the gift itself.

It was strange. It wasn't like Glenn or Evelyn to be so mysterious. It just wasn't their style. But T—

Suddenly the quaffle snapped open and a small piece of paper fluttered down on her.

It was a locket!

She picked up the paper and unfolded it. The print that stared up at her was small and neat – completely unfamiliar to her…

Although it tugged at her memory, as if she should know it, but couldn't place it.

Desperate to know what was going on, she grabbed the paper in both hands, and read hungrily.

_- Gwendolyn_

_I'm not expecting anything from this – no one even has to know who it is from. I just thought you should have it – it was too much like you for me to think of anyone else wearing it – Perhaps, you would like to put a photograph of your brother in it. That's what I hear woman do with these sorts of things – put pictures of people important to them in it._

_Happy Christmas_

_~ A friend?_

_Ps. if he was anything like you, your brother would want you to enjoy your holidays, not wallow in them. Just a thought._

Tom- Tom had sent her this gift. It couldn't have been anybody else. No one – _no one _– else knew about her brother, and Tom knew that too. He wanted her to know it was from him. But why?

What was he up too? No matter what he says or how long he's nice, Tom Riddle could not be trusted – he was not a friend. There as something wrong – something dark – with him; she felt sure of it.

And yet…

"Gwen, dear," Gwendolyn jumped and shoved the note under her comforter as her mum opened the door, "Do you – oh! What a lovely little necklace. Did one of your little friends send that to you?"

Gwendolyn looked at the item in her hands for a long moment, letting her emotions fight with each other, before she responded.

"Yes," she smiled softly, surprising herself, "yes – it was a friend."

Despite what she knew she should feel, the necklace some how become more special, not less, with the knowledge that Tom had a part in it.

* * *

Christmas came and went, and soon Gwendolyn found herself back at Hogwarts and in the midst of the next 'big' holiday – St. Valentine's Day.

All throughout the school, students, boys and girls alike, were gushing on and on about the up-coming day. And no where did the excitement seem more centered than in Gwen's on dormitory.

One particular evening, a couple of days before the big one, the general hub-bub got to a point where she couldn't stand it any longer.

"Gwendolyn, where are you going?" Abby, a girl with buck teeth and an excessive need to know everyone's business, asked.

"I don't know – anywhere that isn't here."

"But it's after curfew; you'll get a detention if you get caught."

Gwendolyn turned to give her a parting smile, "I'll manage."

Bounding down the stairs she hesitated before jumping into the common room. She didn't want to talk to anyone she knew – alone time was what she was looking for at the moment. It was all she wanted.

She really didn't want to run into Glenn. He had been acting very odd lately, and it was starting to make Gwendolyn nervous. She had a suspicion what might be on his mind, and she really didn't want to deal with it.

It would be better if it would all just go away.

That, however, wasn't likely to happen.

Thankfully, today, it was.

Without any problems, she slipped through the nearly empty common room, and out the portrait hole, who like Abby, called a warning that she chose to ignore.

Who was going to catch her? And really if they did, what were they going to do to her? She wasn't up to any mischief. She just wanted a quiet place to think, and no where in the Hufflepuff area was she going to be able to do that.

A clank came down the hall adjacent to her, and she jumped. It couldn't hurt, however, to be more careful. In the end, it would not help her to be caught by Peeves.

She ducked behind a suit of armor, and watched as the school's poltergeist floated past.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she crept along the corridor, meandering without much of a destination until she got to the door that they would take out to herbology.

She stopped.

The longing to go outside was both sudden and irresistible, but caution held her back. Would it be safe? Did outside provide better shelter or less? There really was no one out there who could walk past her, but was she an open target? Couldn't anyone looking out the window see her traipsing about?

She put her hand on the door; it was cold to the touch. It was the middle of winter. Going outside was a ridiculous notation, and yet it was like something was pulling her along, telling her she needed to be out there.

Gwendolyn couldn't resist it; she decided she would risk it.

The air was crisp and the stars sparkled down at her, glitter on a black blanket.

Before learning about Hogwarts, Gwen use to think that the stars, at night were magic. Even though she knew more about magic now, the night sky still held the same wonder for her – the same magic.

Pulling the loose fabric of her robes tighter around her, she huddled in the shadows, hoping that there her dark uniform would help her blend.

The snow crunch and crinkled beneath her feet, but instead of worrying about who would hear the sound, she reveled in it. She reveled in the outdoors in general. She had no idea how much the building was stifling her, until she had gotten out.

Gwendolyn had snuck past the gamekeeper's cottage – a crotchety old man who had most of the school convinced that one day he was going to keel over just like Bins – and was hovering on the edge of the woods behind it.

She turned to look back at the castle. It had never been as spectacular a sight as it had the first night of school, but like the stars, it still held some of the wonder for her.

It was her first taste of _real _magic; it was the place that changed her.

In that moment she realized how important Hogwarts was to her. She had always thought it was just a school – and maybe to those students born Witches or Wizards it was – but it was so much more than that. It was a life style – it was her future.

She took a step back towards it –

A noise from behind her stopped Gwen. It had come from the woods.

She froze. The woods were dangerous. There were all sorts of magical creatures in there, and most weren't the friendly variety.

She was a fool; she was so daft to come this close to the woods – Alone! At night!

Gwen unconsciously began to whimper. She deserved what—

The noise came again, and once more Gwen stopped.

Why it didn't sound that dangerous at all! In fact it sounded like—but no it couldn't – it wouldn't… something must be trying to trick her, lure her into the woods to…

Whatever it was, it sounded closer to her own whimper than anything she had heard was in the woods.

Gwendolyn took a hesitant step forward, "Hello?" She swallowed a lump in her throat, and took another step letting the darkness of the forest envelope her, swallow her whole, "Hello, is anyone there? Are you alright?"

She hovered in that spot, peering into the shadows around her, wondering when her doom was going to come. Her heart was beating wildly, and her limps were shaking – as much from cold as from fright.

"Hello! I heard –"

"You are aware that it's the middle of winter, and that this forest is filled with dangerous creatures, Aren't you?" Tom's usual snarky voice sounded slightly tired and gruffer than normal.

Still, the sudden introduction of it, combined with Gwen's now frazzled nerves, made her jump and scream.

She whirled around to find him huddled on the ground beneath a large gnarled tree.

"I could say the same to you," Gwendolyn tried to put some attitude to these words, but it was hard with her teeth chattering.

"_I'm _actually dressed for winter," Tom said, untying his heavy winter cloak, and holding it out to her.

Gwendolyn looked at it, her frozen body screaming for it, but her pride took control, "I don't want your filthy slithering garb."

"Suit yourself," Tom shrugged, "Freeze to death – that would be more fun to watch anyways."

Gwendolyn bit her lip as they lapsed into silence. She should leave – that's what she usually would have done, and Tom didn't seem like he was in any mood to stop her. But…

She couldn't let go of the sound that had driven her into the woods in the first place. If it hadn't been crying, it was the sound of a human in great distress. And if Tom was in the woods…

It was dark, but Gwen would say that Tom didn't look that much different than usual. That, however, didn't mean anything, since she'd seen Tom go form one emotion to another in the blink of an eye.

Hesitantly, mentally kicking herself, she sat down beside him, ignoring the wet squish of snow. Tom spared her only one sharp glance before gazing in front of him once more.

Slowly, Gwen leaned back against the tree, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Remembering the time he had said that to her, she almost laughed. Everything was somehow so different now. It was surreal.

"Night, I don't want to talk, and even if I did the last person I would want to talk to would be you." Obviously Tom remembered the time to.

Gwen let out a small laugh.

"I guess I deserve that one."

Tom was a lot quicker to apologize, than Gwen had been when she had said the same thing to him.

"Sorry," he sighed, "If you're going to stay—"

"Let me guess, if I'm going to stay, it would be best if I just didn't talk," she finished for him, a smile pulling at her face, "and if I think that _now _is a good time to ask you out…"

She trailed off and could have sworn, for a moment, that she saw Tom smile, but it was too dark, and the moment was gone too soon, to be more sure than anything more than a guess.

Silence fell over them like a blanket. It was engulfing, suffocating. Gwendolyn felt like she should say something; like she _needed_ to say something but what could she do? He had respected her request for silence, when she had asked him the exact same thing. What kind of person would she be if she didn't do the same for him?

As the silence weighed down on her, Gwendolyn nervously pulled her quaffle pendant from her shirt where she kept if, and started twisting it around the chain.

"You're wearing it." Tom's soft surprised voice startled her. She turned to find his dark intense stare on her. It was as unreadable as usual, and yet there seemed to be a spark of something that wasn't there before.

Gwendolyn dropped the necklace and let it thud on top of her shirt. She returned his stare.

"Of course I'm wearing it," she responded in a soft steady voice, "It was a very thoughtful gift… I wanted to say thank you, but… thank you, it's perfect, for everything."

They were silent once more. A cold breeze whistled through the trees, and Gwen shivered, feeling the cold right down to her bones. A moment later, Tom's cloak was placed around her shoulders. She looked at him out the corner of her eye, but he was looking away. He was no longer the cocky suitor he head been at the beginning of the year.

Gwendolyn began to wonder if she had done her part, and was contemplating whether she should go before she over stay her welcome, when Tom spoke.

"I do bad things," his voice, usually so monotone, kept at a pitch perfect for keeping things hidden, cracked slightly, "I can't help it. I know I shouldn't but…"

Gwen was struck silent. His voice was filled with mournful regret, and she had no idea how to respond to it, or his words.

She had always known Tom's dark side, but for him to admit it! What was she supposed to do?

"Well… if you know you shouldn't, than why do you?"

Tom turned to her then, his eyes wide and full, "I told you I can't help it. I want to be good – I don't want to hurt people, but then it's like I can't control it. I just have to—"

He stopped suddenly, his eyes shut-down once more. He swung away from her, his shoulders hunched over. For a moment, Gwen thoughts about putting a comforting hand on those shoulders, but she had no idea how that would be received – how she _wanted _it to be received – so she just left her hands where they were.

"You know, I always believed that if we want to, we can control any action," she said slowly, looking out into the darkness of the woods so she could avoid Tom's stare, "we all have a 'dark' side—some bigger than others – we just have to have the will power to ignore it – ignore it for something."

There was silence in the woods for a moment after she was done speaking.

"What do you ignore it for?"

Tom suddenly looked vulnerable, like the child he was – they both were – for the first time Gwendolyn could ever remember.

"Me? I guess I ignore it for my parent, I want them to be proud of me… my brother, he's probably the best person I know… knew," Gwen paused a moment, touching the locked where James' picture now sat, "I think most of all, though, I ignore it for me. I just want to know that I'm better than all that. Don't you want to know you're better than that too?"

Tom's face was mere inches away from hers. His deep eyes seemed to be searching her face, memorizing it.

"I want to be good enough for you – I want to know I'm good enough to actually deserve you."

Gwendolyn froze her head swimming. What was she doing? This was Tom Riddle, a Slytherin, a no good, sickeningly charming… git! He didn't make declarations, he didn't admit when he was wrong. He just didn't. This was…

But those looks, the voice – one couldn't just pretend that. Could they?

"How do I know this is the truth? How do I know this isn't all some big fib?" Her voice was soft, and despite herself she could feel her head angling closer to his.

Tom saved her the trouble of finishing the job, by closing the gap, "You don't."

Then his lips were on hers, and all other thoughts were gone from her head.

* * *

**A/n: **Well, that was the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, and as always I would really love to hear a reveiw from you. Tell me what you liked, didn't like - your favourite line, your favorite part, or your least favourite if that is how you feel. Constructive critisism is not only welcome but wanted. How else am I to get better?


	7. February 14, 1947

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but Gwen, Glenn, Evelyn and the basic plot. Everything else is the wonderful J.K Rowling's. I'm just borrowing it.

* * *

**February 14****th**** 1947**

_"Come to Hogsmeade with me," Tom begged, his eye's pleading, "Just meet me there, please? What will it hurt?"_

Gwendolyn sighed, fiddling with her outerwear as she trudged across the snow. What was she doing? Just because Tom…

Because Tom what? Because Tom had been nice? Because Tom had shown some vulnerability?

Because Tom had kissed her?

She shied away from the last memory. How could she have let him do that? It was too forward, too…

It was too right.

_What will it hurt?_

Tom's final plea as she pulled away from the unexpected kiss, panic covering her face rang through her head.

_What will it hurt? _Gwen asked herself as the snow capped buildings of Hogsmeade came into view, _me… it could hurt me._

Not wanting to draw attention to herself, what she was doing, Gwendolyn had woken up and snuck out of the school with the earliest of the Hogsmeade goers. Most people liked to spend their Hogsmeade weekend casually. No one really rushed, so almost no one else was leaving the castle with her.

Evelyn would have gushed, wanted details and thoughts Gwendolyn just couldn't give, and Glenn… well she had a suspicion that he had wanted her – and this day – for himself.

Valentines Day.

Oh god – she was going to meet Tom Riddle on Valentines Day. What was she doing?

To meet Tom on any day was dangerous, ridiculous – and yet without having thought about it, she had gotten out of bed this morning, bright and early, with the knowledge that she was going to do it.

If she was being honest with herself she would admit that she had known from the moment he had locked his deep dark gaze on her that she was going to say yes to what ever come out of his mouth.

_What could it hurt?_

It could hurt a lot of things – Gwendolyn was just hoping that it didn't.

Sighing, Gwendolyn put her frozen fingers to her mouth and blew on them, trying to bring back some feeling to them. She was hovering around the edge, entrance really, of Hogsmeade. She had no idea where Tom would be. He hadn't said where to meet him, just to meet him, and besides, she was so early that he probably wouldn't be there yet.

Still, after all the effort she had put into avoiding her friends, she couldn't stay where she was. They would walk right past her if she stayed there too long – everyone would.

With one futile glance around her trying to predict where she would be if she was Tom Riddle, she started to walk aimlessly down the street of the quaint village.

Hogsmeade was her favourite magical place, after Hogwarts of course. The only other place she had really been that held an abundance of her kind, was Diagon Alley, and despite it's colourful, magical feel, Gwendolyn found it a little too lively for her taste.

No, Hogsmeade with its quaint shops and friendly pubs was much more to her liking.

Even now, when she was wondering it in a state that could really only be called lost, and in constant agitation, she found the place entrancing.

_Where the bloody hell would Tom Riddle be? _Gwen certainly couldn't predict that boy's mind. One moment he was a smooth talking Prat who bullied his way into things just for his own enjoyment, and the next he's this distraught mess that was claiming he didn't mean any of it.

So which one was the truth? Who was he lying to, Gwendolyn or everyone else? They certainly both couldn't be truth, could they?  
Gwen didn't know. Tom was more of an enigma than ever before.

An enigma that was probably setting a trap for her – a trap that she was willingly walking into.

Gwendolyn sunk down onto the steps of a shop, cold snow melting into her robes but she didn't care. She dropped her head into her hands.

What was she doing? She was being thick if she thought Tom Riddle would change just because…

Well, just because she had liked him since the moment she sat in that boat and he turned his dark gaze from the water to her. She hated to admit it, even to herself, _especially _to herself, but she had been trapped since that day. She didn't love him, _good god no, _it was nothing like that. Gwendolyn wasn't foolish enough to go around promoting love at first sight.

No, Gwen didn't love Tom Riddle, for a while she had come close to hating him, but even through all that, there had been an underlying force drawing herself to him; she couldn't help it. It was as if Tom was a magnet and she a lump of scrap metal. No matter where she went, if Tom was there, she would automatically gravitate towards him.

It was foolish, stupid – like a rabbit running towards a wolf, a zebra to a lion—but she could help it, because ever since that first night at Hogwarts, Gwendolyn Night had been attracted to Tom Riddle.

She had been denying it for over three years now; there was nothing she could do, but finally admit it to herself.

"And now?" she mumbled to herself.

Now, she was running towards danger with open arms, ignoring every logical argument she had ever had against it, because…

Well, because for the first time, Gwendolyn had true hope that maybe, just maybe, Tom Riddle was attracted to Gwendolyn Night.

She was a fool – a God damned fool. She should leave now, go back to the castle, find Evelyn, or even Glenn – good, safe, normal Glenn – before—

"You came."

Gwendolyn's head snapped up at the soft, astonished voice – a voice she would know anywhere.

Tom.

"Yes," she replied in an equally soft voice, laying both her hands flat in the snow beside her, "it appears that I have."

She felt her heart as if it was a limb she could control; every nerve in her body was on end, waiting appraising, trying to see which Tom she had gotten. She had accepted a date with one. There was no guarantee that she was going to stick around if she had gotten the other.

"I didn't think you would." His words held a trembling note of vulnerability that suggested the Tom she wanted had appeared, but then again that didn't mean that he would stay – or that it wasn't all just a big lie anyways.

"Yes well… quite frankly neither did I."

Tom stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes appraising her, boring holes into her skin.

Gwendolyn made sure she was looking anywhere but him.

"So why did you?"  
As always, Gwen felt herself drawn to him, pulled into his gaze.

"I don't know."

He continued to appraise her, hold her gaze. His face twitched and for a moment she thought she saw his old smirk flash onto his face, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

"I think you do."

Gwen's jaw went slack and she started to back away form him as he approached, scared that he was going to kiss her again.

Scared that she was going to let him.

This time he did smirk – Gwendolyn's heart fluttered despite herself.

He held out one mitted hand to her.

"Are we going to do this, or not?"

* * *

Gwendolyn was surprised at how quickly and easily she fell into a companionable pattern with Tom. Once she got rid of all her opinions, doubts, and fears, spending time with Tom became as easily as if he was Evelyn or Glenn.

In fact, it was easier.

And as time went on, Tom morphed into a new version of himself that she had never seen before. He was charming without being smarmy, and open without seeming broken.

Somehow, she felt that this Tom was the most honest of them all. He wasn't doing deceitful, _evil _things out of some sickness he claimed he couldn't ignore, nor was he quashed and broken from the guilt of these acts.

He was just being Tom, and in turn she felt like she could just be Gwendolyn.

Later, of course, she will second guess herself, and this time, wondering what was the truth and what was a lie, but for now, she was just enjoying the feeling of being on a date with a boy she genuinely liked.

"… and he used to make the best pudding you ever tasted," Gwendolyn sighed and took a sip of her butter beer, thoughts of James making her momentarily gloomy.

"He sounds like a man worth admiring," Tom said diplomatically, the kind smile on his face slipping into a scowl of annoyance, and his eyes clouding over for only a moment before the smile was back in place. Gwen didn't even notice, "You certainly do."

Gwendolyn smiled bashfully, "Oh, I've been blowing his virtues way out of proportion. A little sister's idolization – you know how it is with family."

"Actually," he said quietly, a cloud growing over his features, "I don't."

Gwendolyn's mouth flattened into a line of concern and she tilted her head questioningly.

"I never knew my family," his voice was quiet, but not exactly sad. Tom was slipping back into the monotone he always used in such conversations, "I grew up in an _orphanage _– a _Muggle _orphanage," Tom sneered the words, "My mother died there, after giving birth to me."

"Oh my goodness," Gwendolyn breathed, her eyes wide and glossy, "And your father?"

"I use to think it had to be him, he _had _to be the wizard; of my mum was a witch she wouldn't have…" he paused a moment, his monotone cracking slightly, his eye sparkling softly with a pain Gwendolyn knew well, "I looked everywhere, searching, hoping for some sign of my father here. He had to be somewhere – anywhere… but he wasn't; after three years of searching I couldn't deny the truth any longer…" the pain in his eye's sparkled and fizzled, morphing into something much more violent, "he was a _Muggle_, and he left us. The filthy Muggle left us! Left me!"

Tom's voice rose, and with flashing eyes he slammed his hand down on the table, making it shake violently and spilling his drink.

Gwen looked around her, but the dark unpopular pub they had gone into to avoid other students – particularly their respective friends – was nearly empty. The few people that were sitting in the dark either didn't notice Tom's outburst or didn't care.

Slowly, hesitantly, Gwen slid her hand across he table, and placed it on top of his. Tom looked down at it as if in shock.

Like in the hospital wing, Gwen didn't draw back from his anger, she wasn't afraid. This wasn't his usual misplace raged, egged on by some thing in his head.

This was something honest, something true. This was a pain, a pain of a lonely child. Whether Tom wanted to admit it or not, Gwendolyn knew, she knew the pain of loss, and she had seen it in his eyes

"Tom," she said softly, "how do you know your father left? How do you know he didn't… is it not possible he died too?"

Tome blinked a couple of times, as if he was having trouble putting this thought in his head, before glowering once more, "he better hope he had."

Gwendolyn nodded slowly. She wasn't going to win this battle, but she had another one to deal with.

"And if your father did leave… well, Muggles are as different as Wizards and Witches – they can be good or bad or both. Just because your father might not have been strong enough to handle magic… well it doesn't mean they all aren't. They can't all be condemned."

Tom stared at her for a long moment, but Gwen didn't think he was actually seeing her. He was thinking of something else; his mind was long gone, his face swirling between different emotions as new thoughts came to him and then left.

Finally, this trance broke, and the Tom she had started to get to know peaked through again.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

_Leave her – leave her before she leaves you._

Tom rubbed his temple, desperately looking for a way to turn off the voice in his head.

_You can't trust her; you know that. She's not good for us – she weakens us._

_No, _Tom thought angrily back,_ she weakens you!_

_Exactly._

Making a fist with his hand, Tom resisted the urge to slam his hand into the desk. Gwendolyn was quietly reading at the other end of the table, and although it was late, there were still a few other people in the library.

He didn't want to attract her attention.

_Because you know she'll leave you._

_Shut up!_

The voice shrunk back at the sudden rage, but it didn't disappear. It never disappeared completely.

With the momentary silence Tom took the opportunity to take in Gwendolyn's appearance undisturbed, and unnoticed.

Her brown hair, once a short neat bob, had been allowed to grow out slightly and now swished around her shoulders. Her green eyes squinted in concentration as her lips moved along, mouthing the words.

She was pretty, beautiful even when she wanted to be, but that wasn't what Tom wanted from her, needed from her.

She was good, and kind – purely good and kind; he needed that voice of reason, that goodness to keep the voice way, to keep him himself.

That was why he was drawn to her; it was why he could always point her out in a crowd – because his soul, his true pure, normal soul needed hers to stay alive – needed something innocent and pure to anchor itself to, to be able to keep _it _at bay.

But the more time he spent with her, the more he found in her to admire. The more the thing that was drawing him to her deepened and strengthened into something new – something that scared him.

No _not _him – it, it scared _it._

_Everyone leaves you. Why should this be any different?_

Tom shivered instantly as the cold voice hissed and slithered its way back into his head.

_She's different; she's_—

_Just like everyone else; your Mum, dad – they all left. Those kids in the orphanage, the people there, they've never cared. The only one you can count on is me._

_You're wrong! I don't need you. I'm fine on my own. I'm _better _on my own._

Gwen had said that she thought we could control anything if we tried hard enough, but she didn't understand. Tom tried and tried and all he ever got was…

_It's been month's now and who has she told? Who have you?_

_Shut up!_

_You know it can't last; she doesn't care about you. She can't._

_Shut up!_

_You can't trust anyone; especially a filthy little Mudbl—_

_I said shut up! Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!_

"Tom?"  
Gwendolyn looked up from her book, her eyes filly with a mix of shock and concern.

He had said the last one out loud.

"Sorry, all this just…" he trialed off and waved a hand over his work.

She smiled sympathetically and slid her had over his.

He loved the feeling of her hand in his.

She was too good for him.

The voice was gone.

But it wouldn't stay that way.

* * *

**A/N: **Ok, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Please reveiw, I would love to hear from you. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't - you can meantion your favourite or least favourite part. See something you think I need to work on, please tell me! It's the only way I'm going to get better.


	8. July 30th, 1947

**A/N: **For those of you keeping track, though I really don't blame you if your not, you may have noticed that according to the chapter dates I managed to make Gwen and everyone else go back in time by jumping from Dec 1946 to Feb. 1946. My genius brain being what it is, forgot that when you pass over January, you have to change the date. So if you look back at the last chapter, you will see I changed it to the date that it was supposed to be, February 14th 194**7**. Just thought I'd let you know, if you are keeping track of the dates.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything but the basic plot, Gwen and her little world. The rest is all J.K. Rowlings, and I am just borrowing it as a creative outlet.

* * *

**July 30****th**** 1947**

_The beach? What a _Muggle _thing to do._

The voice was back and Tom was too tired to fight it off. In all honesty, the voice had shown up in full force once more the moment he head stepped off the Hogwarts Express, and the prospect of another summer at the orphanage had left him too depressed to bother fighting it off.

Often times, he found himself wondering if it was his pitiful excuse of a childhood at the orphanage that had left him with this monster, or if it was just some sick curse he was born with.

_Where is your mudblo—?_

_Shut it! You want to stay you better shut it!_

The voice, in an odd way, was company. In the painfully cramped bus filled with pale children, all in identical outfits, who scared Tom of things he wasn't even aware he was afraid of, it gave him a sense of distinction, superiority. He was special. He had told Dumbledore that the fateful day he had come to free Tom of this place.

All that, however, was lost as soon as the voice started its constant assault on Gwendolyn.

It appeared that Tom Riddle had a line, and Gwendolyn Night was it.

_Such a mundane thing, the beach._

The voice seemed to understand this line and was respecting it – for now.

It went on in its usual sneering way, and Tom allowed it to lull him into a frightfully dark mood.

_To think that this filth believe this is a treat._

The bus lurched to a stop, and Tom looked sullenly out the window. It was anything but the ideal day for a seaside stroll. Large rocks stood out of the sand, and grey clouds swirled in the sky, threatening rain. The wind rushed across the land, bringing the water crashing into the shore.

Tom felt oddly drawn to those waves, to the power the held.

_Power? _The voice sneered; _What kind of power could that have? You know what real power is – we have real power._

The word power word ring in Toms head for a long time.

Slowly, the caregivers herded the motley crew of orphans off the bus, and Tom felt a satisfied smirk grow on his face as they were all sure to give him a wide berth.

They never neglected to remember him in there fear. There was no forgetting Tom Riddle – no confusing him other Toms or being lost in the shuffle. They always remember to keep away of the strange Tom Riddle – they always remembered him.

As the smaller children, pudgy and dull, ran around making a ruckus, giving the caretakers hell trying to keep them out of the water, Tom stop, stand-still, staring at the waves, wondering at their power.

_Where is she now? Your 'angel' – what she doing for you here?_

Tom stiffened.

_Shut up!_

_It is the truth, is it not?  
It's summer – how is she supposed to be here?_

_Does she not talk to the filth friends?_

_You better watch yourself._

_What can you do? I am you._

_I will never be—_

A call, yell of sorts, came down to him cutting off his thoughts.

He could have sworn, but no.

There was a figure zooming down the steep hill on a bicycle, her yellow skirt billowing out behind her as she raced faster and faster towards the beach.

"Sorry, sorry!" the figured called as she came closer to people, "How do you stop this bloody thing?"

Tom's heartbeat and feet quickened until he had stepped right up in front of the hill. He knew that voice; there was no way he could be mistaken on this.

"Tom, watch out!" the figure waved her hand wildly, "I don't think I can—"

The bike hit the sand a few feet from Tom and she pulled hard on the handle bars, making the wheels skid and snow plowed to a stop. The bike falling over as her left leg skidded into the sand.

Gwendolyn Night smiled cheekily from the ground, pinned under her bike, "Hullo Tom."

* * *

Gwendolyn smiled up at Tom feeling quite proud of herself as she took in his stunned expression.

"Gwendolyn! Are you alright darling?" She turned to see her parents hustling down the hill after her.

"Fine mum! Landed in the sand."  
Her mother looked both relieved and exasperated, and even though they were still a ways off, Gwen could her mutter to her father, "can fly that broom of hers all day, no problem, but give her a simple bicycle."

Gwendolyn smiled at Tom as he pushed the bike off of her and gave her a hand up.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He made a face, the words of concerned seemed to be uncomfortable on his lips, but despite that Gwen felt sure that he meant them.

"Of course; I've fallen over 100 feet before, remember?"

His handsome, yet oddly impassive features settled into a grimace, "I remember."

"Lighten up, jack—your ruining my surprise," she gave him a stern look, her eyes twinkling.

A smile passed over Tom's features and by all miracles it actually stayed in place.

"Yes, how did this happen?"

Remembering a time at school when Tom had complained about the orphanage's summer outings, Gwendolyn had written them – by Muggle post of course – to request where they were planning on going the year. Once they had, rather reluctantly she suspected, told her the information, Gwen had hounded her parents into taking a trip to that beach at that time.

Gwendolyn smiled mischievously at Tom, "That's going to be my little secret."

"You can't keep a secret from me," Tom claimed, a proud sort of look coming over his face.

"Can't I?" Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow at him.

Before he could respond to that, however, Gwendolyn's parents had come up and they were introduced. As soon as they had walked off, willing to give the children time alone, one of the orphans, a little girl with stringy blonde hair, pulled on the hem of Gwen's summer dress.

Tom grimaced at the child and looked about read to scare her away, but Gwen shot him a warning glance before bending down to the girls height, smiling.  
"And who might you be?"

The little girl pulled her thumb out of her mouth before answering, "Polly."

"What would you like Polly?"

"Are you Tom's sweetheart?" she looked at Tom nervously before going back to Gwen, waiting boldly for an answer.

Gwendolyn blushed to her roots; she herself sent Tom a glance before answering.

"Well, I don't know – I think I might quite like to be… but why don't you ask Tom that question?"

Polly, thumb securely in her mouth this time, with no hope of leaving, shook her head, her eyes suddenly wide, "he's scary."

"He can be a little grumpy sometimes, can't he?" Gwendolyn tried not to laugh. 'Grumpy' didn't really cut it when talking about Tom Riddle and his mood swings.

"Though I know a secret," Gwen lowered her voice conspiratorially, "If he tries, he can be nice sometimes too – go on, ask him what you asked me. I promise he'll be nice this time."

Gwen gave Tom's blank gaze a stern but encouraging look. She had seen this ability in him, but she needed him to show other people. He'd never be good if he couldn't at the very least be cordial to people who weren't her – and actually mean it.

Fearfully, little Polly turned to Tom, and asked her question in a quivering voice, "Is she your sweetheart?"

Gwendolyn bit her lip as Tom looked between Polly and herself, gaze unreadable. She felt momentarily guilty for having Polly do her dirty work for her. She wanted to know the answer herself, but at this moment, she wasn't sure she hadn't just pushed Tom Riddle too far.

His gaze settled on her for a long time, and something shifted in his eyes.

"Yes."

* * *

"How do you do it?"

Gwendolyn looked at him questioningly, "Do what?"

"That," he waved behind him at the children running about, "Not get irritated by them, be nice all the time, remember their _names_!"

Gwendolyn laughed.

"It's not that hard. I like children – they're cute. Innocent."

Once Polly had walked off, Gwendolyn had become a child magnet. A novelty to the orphanages who saw only the same people day in and day out, they swarmed her, asking questions or just looking at the new girl who still knew her parents. She kindly listened to them, and to Tom's apparent astonishment, managed to recall the names of each child, when they came back to her once more.

"I bet you were a menace as a child," she bumped his shoulder with hers.

They had finally escaped the children, and were standing by the water, letting the waves come in and soak their feet.

Tom raised an eyebrow, amusement colouring his face.

"Me? I bet I was no worse than you," he bumped her shoulder in retaliation.

"I was a perfect angel."

Gwendolyn tried to blink her eyes innocently while simultaneously looking appalled that he would even suggest anything to the contrary.

Tom's face twitched as he attempted to keep his amusement down.

"Well I never," Gwendolyn gasped abandoning innocent and just going for full out appalled. The twinkling in her eyes didn't help either of them.

So Gwendolyn gave a full out shove, making Tom waver for a moment until he found his balance once more.

His eyes glinted with hard playfulness.

"I don't think you want to do that Night," his smirk, softened only by the slight change in his gaze, slowly grew on his face.

"Don't I Riddle?"

She raised her eyebrow at him challengingly.

The smirk still in place, he stepped forward and placed a hand on each shoulder, "Remember? I'm dangerous."

And he pushed.

Like Tom, she wavered as her sense of balance was lost.

Unlike Tom, she never got that balance back.

_Plop, _she found herself in the water, waves crashing into her, soaking her straight through.

She gasped up at Tom, "You didn't!"

This time Tom was completely unable to keep his amusement off his face.

"Sorry," the apology came out sounding far from sincere, as he offered her a hand.

For a smart wizard, he wasn't that smart when it came to Gwen.

One moment she was grapping his hand.

And the next –

_Plop, _he was in the water beside her.

"You didn't," his eyes sparkled with something far from anger.

"I did," Gwendolyn shrugged, extremely proud of herself, "Not so dangerous now, are we?"

Tom raised her eyebrow, warning written all over his face.

"You're going to regret that."

He lunged, and with a yelp Gwendolyn crawled out of the way.

Neither of them being one for quitting, the chase lasted on – each running, ducking and diving through the waves until they were much further out than they had intended.

That far out the waves, which from shore had seemed great, held even more power, a power that held both Gwendolyn and Tom tight, unable to leave.

"Gwendolyn!" her mother's voice carried over the water, "Get back in here! It's not safe that far out."

"I'm fine Mum!"

Gwen didn't want to leave. She felt exhilarated fighting the push and pull of the waves. Out that far, the water crested up on either side of them, boxing Tom and herself in. It was as if they were the only two left in the world.

Surprised, Gwendolyn enjoyed that feeling. There was a time when just hearing Tom's name would set her on edge, but now she felt calm and safe. Even with the swells trying to take her and her mother's warning ringing in her ears, she felt safe. She felt safe because she was with him.

"Tom," she waited as a wave crashed over her, pushing her below the water for a moment, "Did you mean it? What you said to Polly? Did you really mean it, or were you just trying to prove me right, be nice?"

Another wave crashed over them, pressing down on Gwen making her feel all the pressure of her question.

This was serious. Talking wasn't what they did. Ever since their first date at Hogsmeade they just were. They didn't give a definition and they certainly didn't tell others. To ask what she had, to be looking for a definition…

That was huge – that was irrevocable.

Now that it was out there, no matter how Tom responded, their relationship would be different.

Tom swam towards her, his clothes sticking to his body, dark hair plastered to his forehead.

"Gwen," he paused, and grabbed her hand and looked at it, his expression becoming one of deep concentration. His eyes darkened thoughtfully, "I—"

"Gwendolyn Night! Get in here this instant!"

Gwen felt her heart drop in disappointment and then flood with anger.

Tom had been so close, and then—

"Mum I can—"

Whatever she could or couldn't do was cut off as a large wave crested right over her head, taking her by surprise.

The weight of it seemed bare down on her, the water hitting her delicate skin like a slap. The force pushed her further and further down until for a moment she feared it would never stop.

Then it did.

That was when she realized something much worse was happening.

She was no longer being pulled down, but being pulled out – out to sea.

Tom's hand, which she had been holding like a vice, was suddenly and cruelly ripped from her grasp.

* * *

Empty.

Tom looked down at his hand horrified.

Empty, gone.

He whirled around, scanning the surface. Maybe she just—she could have—

Empty.

The horizon was as empty as his hand.

She was gone, pulled under by the wave.

"Gwen!"

_Leave her._

"Gwen!"

_What use is she to us?_

"Gwendolyn!"  
_This is the opportunity we've been waiting for!_

Tom's voice rang out uselessly as he frantically splashed through the water.

_Let her die. We don't need her._

_Die, _the word ran through his head, leaving gut wrenching images of Gwen's face, pale and lifeless, her expression frozen in a mask of fear, waiting for someone to save her, in its wake.

The beast inside of him purred.

_No!_

Tom started splashing about more where he last saw her, diving under the water, looking, searching.

_She weakens us! Just let her go_

_Never! _

Tom dived once more, the water murky obscuring his view.

_I need her!_

_You don't—_

Fear the Tom didn't know possible, fear that Tom had spent his life avoiding, filled his chest, overwhelming him, choking him.

_I love her._

* * *

The water swirled around her, darkening objects, muting all colours. Her skirt, once so carefree and playful, swirled and stuck to her legs, becoming cumbersome, inhibiting her flailing limbs from getting any movement.

She knew there was something she should do, some maneuver that may save her, but her oxygen deprived brain couldn't come up with it.

Her lungs burned and ached, complaining about what she was making them do. Her vision swam, black dot swarming. Her head was disoriented, dizzy.

She needed to take a breath soon.

How sad her parents were going to be, to lose another child. She as was all they had left. How could she have done this to them? At least James had died for honor, justice. What was she dying for?

Tom—who was going to watch out for Tom? Who was going to see the good in him? She wasn't sure he could do it on his own.

She never got to tell him how she felt. They had wasted all their time not talking. Now there was no time _left_ for talking.

Gwen will never know what he was going to say.

Her lungs continued to protest. They needed air, but there was none down here. To take a breath would only bring on certain, painful death.

But she didn't have much time. If she didn't get air soon her body would shut down, pass out, and then all was lost.

She could already feel it going.

And all she could think of as she entered this fuzzy state was:

_What a horrible way to die._

* * *

**A/N: **So that was the chapter - as you can see my imagination took a dramatic turn, but hopefully you enjoyed it anways; I'm kind of proud of it myself, but thats irrelivant to your enjoyment. Please, if you have the time, I would love if you would review. I love to hear what you think, what you liked, didn't like - you've heard this all before, I write it all the time, doesn't change :P Anyways, thanks for read.


	9. After

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter world. I'm just a happy borrower.

* * *

**After**

Strong arms were around her, pulling her up.

Air, sweet fresh air.

Gasping for it, she panted, lapping it up.

Water came up as her lungs began to protest, cough.

Her body shook.

The arms were around her again, holding her close.

IT wasn't close enough; Gwendolyn wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself closer.

"I'm sorry; I'm so, so sorry."

The words just kept coming out of her mouth between gasps. She couldn't help herself.

They were moving.

She was cold, so cold. She snuggled closer, looking for warmth.

She never wanted to let go.

They stopped moving.

The water was gone – the evil, cursed, killer water.

She was being set down.

The sand was warm on her back, but not warm enough. Her hand groped around, desperately looking for the contact she had lost.

She found it.

A hand pulled her wet sticky hair from her face.

She opened her eyes.

Deep dark brown eyes stared down at her. More open, showing so much more, than she had ever seen before.

Fear, pain, confusion anger, and…

Love.

She was so sure she saw love.

His mouth opened, saying three words she had thought she wouldn't live to hear.

"I meant it."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading; I'm sorry for the shortness, but its not really a chapter on its own, more like the end of the last chapter, that I just felt like seprating for dramatic affect. You may have noticed that I like dramamtic affect. Also, just in case anyone was getting all panicky or just thinking about the different title I put on here, this is not the last chapter - I only meant 'after' in the sense of after the last chapter, and I was sort of trying to play with the sense of disorrientation I tried to put through out this small blib. Anyways, I will strive to give you a real update again soon - and as always please Review. I love to hear what you think.


	10. November 20th, 1947

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything, I am borrowing.

* * *

**November 20****th**** 1947**

Things changed after that fateful July day on that gloomy beach. They never talked about it, as per usual, but Gwen could feel it. She could only assume that Tom could feel it too.

It was late one evening, and they were both huddled behind a large bookshelf, studying. At least Gwen assumed that Tom was studying right up until she caught him eyeing the restricted section with an expression that could only be called longing.

Again.

"What exactly," she asked, setting her quill down with a little more force than she had intended, "do you think you'll find in there?"

Tom seemed to give her a guilty look, and quickly returned his gaze to his book.

"Nothing; I don't want to find anything."

Gwendolyn looked at him doubtfully, "You know Tom… I highly doubt you'll find anything abut your family in there; if it isn't out here—"

"I know," Tom said a little sharply but Gwen didn't take any offence from it, "It's not- it's not that. Just leave it alone Gwen – please."

Gwendolyn's eyebrows raised; it wasn't often that Tom invoked manors, even with her. She decided that she was going to respect his wishes, except something was still nagging at her, telling her something wasn't quite as it seemed.

Her gaze strayed to the book in his lap.

"What are you reading?" she couldn't quite keep the suspicion out of her voice, and for once Tom seemed to not know what she was thinking; he was too late to stop her from taking the book.

Oh Tom tried valiantly, Gwendolyn was just faster.

"Tom," she said in a disappointed tone before she had even looked at the book; his display had really said all she needed to know, "What _have _you been doing?"

Tom's face coloured slightly but his look remained defiant.

He didn't have to answer though. One glance at the page was enough to tell her all she needed to know.

"Ghosts—Tom, you—"

"Don't you want to us your power? What good is all this if we can leave it so quickly," Tom's voice was filed with eager excitement, "What good is it if one wave, one, can make it all go away."

"Tom, this isn't about—?"

"Death is for Muggles Gwen. We are better than that, surely. We couldn't have been given all this power if we were meant to die – to live but a small blip, and then spend eternity rotting uselessly in the ground." Tom sighed, a faraway look growing in his eye, "I _will _live forever."

Gwendolyn shivered slightly at his tone. He had said something like this once before, when they had been in the Hospital Wing, after finding Bins.

"But Tom… wizards or not we are still mortal. We are meant to live and then we are meant to die." She paused to think the last bit over, "I always thought… well, to live forever always seemed kind of lonely to me. The castle's ghosts… except for Peeves, and maybe Bins, I think they regret it. You know… choosing to remain behind, forever."

"Lonely," Tom scoffed his features hard and for once in a long time unreadable. Then his shoulders sagged and his features softened, "It wouldn't be lonely if you had someone with you."

Gwendolyn smiled sadly and shook her head. To live forever, that was a dream of youth. Although she couldn't fathom it right now, she was sure there will come a time when she'll be ready to let the 'chains of life', so to speak, go. Not for years to come, but someday.

For unlike Tom, Gwendolyn believed that no one should, or truly could, live forever.

"Tom I—" she paused a moment remembering something, "I have something I want to give to you."

Tom raised an eyebrow, his interest peaked.

Gwendolyn let out a nervous breath and pulled something from her bag.

"To be honest, I wasn't entirely sure I would give it to you. It's terrible mundane, nothing really special at all, but I- well." She took a deep breath and thrust the object at him, "here."

It was a diary, a thin rather nondescript black book. On the front, next year's date gleamed, and the back cover would tell you that Gwendolyn had purchased it in London.

Tom held the book in his hand like it was a foreign object and Gwen continued to babble nervously.

"I know you probably don't—it's just that I saw it, and thought maybe if you had something to write things down in it would be easier to… well you know – be good," Gwendolyn paused for a moment, playing with the end of her hair, "but you don't have to—I mean I don't care if you use it or not, it was just—"

"No one's ever given me something before."

Gwendolyn blinked, "Pardon?"

"The orphanage gave me things because they had to, and other people have always been looking for something in return," Tom turned his handsome, stunned face towards her, "but no one's ever just… given me something."

"Well," Gwendolyn said slowly, "you're welcome?"

She wasn't entirely sure whether Tom was glad of this fact or not.

But then he smiled, a real smile not a smirk, at her and it didn't really matter anymore.

* * *

"You can't tell me that you actually fancy that bloke!"  
Gwendolyn was sitting on a cold stone bench in the middle of January listening to Glenn explain all the reasons she shouldn't let Tom Riddle get to her.

She was trying to refrain from telling Glenn that it was too late, but the boy wasn't making it easy.

She shrugged, "I don't know… he _is_ rather good looking."

Glenn shot her a horrified glance.

"What?" she looked at him, "I am only stating the facts. Ask any girl around and she'll tell you that Tom Riddle is a dish."

Glenn shook his head in disgust.

"You use to see through all his good boy glamour's. I have half a mind to take you to the Hospital Wing. What happened to you?"

Gwendolyn was only half listening, for she had spotted Tom and his cronies – she still didn't believe they truly counted as friends – over by the Herbology greenhouses.

"Maybe those weren't the only glamour's he has," she heard herself murmur as she followed Tom with her eyes.

"What has he been saying to you? What has he been filling your head with?"

Gwendolyn managed to pull her eyes away from Tom long enough to give Glenn a hard stare.

"What exactly has Tom ever done to you? What makes you an expert on his personality?"  
"Oh he's done nothing to me, just tortured a few dozen 'firsties' because he could. And don't think he didn't enjoy it."

Gwendolyn bit her lip a moment. She couldn't dispute that point. He has done that and she knew it.

"When was the last time he did this? How do you now he hasn't changed?"

Glenn snorted in disgust, "People like that, like Riddle, they never change. I use to think you were smart enough to know that."

"And I use to think you had the class not to judge people you didn't actually know!" Gwendolyn snapped, her voice rose startling the birds hovering around their bench, and attracting the attention of several students around the yard.

Including Tom – though Gwendolyn was too busy glaring at Glenn to notice.

"You know," Glenn said standing up abruptly, "find me when you've finally come back to your senses."

He walked off in a huff and Gwendolyn watched him go with an odd hollow feeling filling her stomach.

Glenn had been one of her first friends; he had made her feel comfortable at Hogwarts, as if she belonged.

And now…

Was Glenn right? Was she being fooled? She used to think so, but now…

Was Tom worth loosing her friends for? The boy that—

She felt an odd tug on her heart, and then the almost unconscious decision to look where she had last seen Tom.

His gaze locked on hers; her heart flip-flopped.

He wanted to be different, wanted to change – because of her, for her.

She smiled and gave a little wave.

Even from a distance she could see the corners of his mouth lift up.

He was definitely worth it.

* * *

Winter and most of spring passed and still Glenn refused to talk to her.

She tried everything she could think of to mend the broken bridge between them, but in the end, she couldn't do the one thing that Glenn wanted her to do.

She couldn't give up Tom. He needed her more than Glenn did.

_She_ needed Tom more.

So as the first of May approached, Gwendolyn was facing the fourth straight month without Glenn.

"He's just jealous, you know that right?" Evelyn whispered trying to console her friend.

"Who? Tom?" Gwendolyn asked absentmindedly as she watched Glenn sit with some other sixth years rather than with Evelyn and herself, as he used to.

"No, Glenn."

"Glenn?" Gwendolyn sat up straighter, "Why would he—?"

Evelyn fixed her with a look of skepticism, "Gwendolyn, the boy has been scheming on you bad for years."

"Yeah, but Eve I've never… I mean I tried not to ever encourage him. You don't think he actually thought he had a chance?"

Evelyn sighed, "The heart doesn't deal with reason. Eventually he'll realize that."

Gwendolyn sighed and turned her gaze back to Glenn.

"How long is eventually going to be?"

Evelyn put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder but said nothing. There was nothing left _to _say.

Both girls went back to their studying. At least Gwendolyn tried, but the constant sound of Glenn's voice, so near but not talking to her – stubbornly, stupidly ignoring her – kept grating on her nerves until finally she had had enough.

She slammed her Charms textbook shut, and pushed her chair back.

"I'm sorry Eve—I just can't," she ran a hand through her hair, "I'll see you in the morning."

With a childish glare to the back of Glenn's head, she hugged her books to her chest and left the library.

She raced down the corridors, emotions welling up inside of her. Anger was only thinly covering up large amounts of pain and guilt.

How could Glenn be so selfish? Just because she couldn't care about him the way he wanted, didn't mean she didn't care about him at all. He was her friend, her best friend, and she missed him.

She was a mess; she couldn't go back to the common room like this. She needed to be alone. She needed to calm down.

"Hello," Gwendolyn called as she entered the lavatory, "Myrtle? Are you in here?"

She hadn't seen Myrtle run off today, but that didn't mean she hadn't. Myrtle was a tad bit over-sensitive. Gwendolyn certainly didn't need to run into her in the mood Gwen was in now.

Thankfully the lavatory was empty. She crept up to the sink and braced herself over it, letting her head hang down, her hair falling over her face.

She couldn't keep letting Glenn get to her like this; if he wanted to act like a child, then let him. She tried everything she could to fix things, but Glenn wasn't making an effort at all. It was his loss.

Of course, it was her loss too; that was the problem.

She splashed some water on her face. The coldness of it startled her, but didn't do much more than that.

Gwendolyn sighed, and rolled her shoulders back. There was only one thing she could think of that may make her feel a little better, a little more in control, but…

She cranked her neck to make sure no one was coming into the lavatory, and then she did what she always did when she was upset.

Gwendolyn let herself become someone else.

Her hair wrinkled to a shimmering blonde, and she shrunk a few feet in height.

It was as she was debating whether she liked this appearance or not, that she heard the half scream, as if whoever was making the noise had been muffled before they could finish it, followed by a dull thump like someone dropping a sack of potatoes down.

Gwendolyn snapped to attention. What was that? Her heart raced.

With out much more of a thought, she raced into the hall, and turned in the direction she could have sworn she heard the sound come from.

Her feet echoed down the empty hallway. What had that been? Could someone have fallen? Or been attacked?

People weren't attacked at Hogwarts – were they?

Gwendolyn was starting to think that she had gone the wrong way, or maybe she hadn't heard the sounds at all, when she stepped on something and almost lost her balance.

Curious, she bent down to pick it up. It was a hairclip; a comb really was what they were called, large and fancy. The metallic silver colour shone, blinking her reflection back at her, but Gwendolyn wasn't looking at it. Her gaze had already moved on.

To the shoe, that was connected to a leg that was connected to a body, still and frozen, hidden in the shadows.

It was a body she knew.

She felt something rise up in her throat as she stepped forward, but whether it was sound or her dinner she didn't know.

The unseeing eyes of Abigail Jones, her nosy housemate stared up at her.

Gwendolyn wasn't aware that she had let out a scream until footsteps came pounding down the corridor, and a very familiar voice called out her name.

Tom stopped in the middle of the corridor blinking at her in confusion.

"I thought I—" he looked at her closely, an odd expression spreading on his face, "Where's Gwendolyn?"

"What do you mean 'where's Gwendolyn' I'm," she finally looked at her reflection in the clip, and let out an 'oh'. She had left the bathroom in such a hurry that she had forgotten she hadn't been looking like herself. Funny how when everything else changes your voice doesn't. She let her own features slip back into place, "right here."

Tom blinked at her some more, "You're a—you're a—"

"Yes, yes I'm a freak, we'll deal with that later," Gwendolyn was getting angry that he was paying more attention to her than the – corpse—at her feet, "I think that's more important."

Slowly Tom closed the gap between them, his face an odd mask – unreadable, yet seemingly strangely unperturbed.

For some reason it was making her insides cold.

Or maybe that was just poor Abigail at her feet.

"Is she—is she," Gwendolyn swallowed, striving to get a hold of herself, "dead?"

Instead of answering her, Tom knelt down to look closer at the girl. Gwendolyn wanted to tell him not to touch anything, but surely this couldn't be a crime – not at Hogwarts.

And yet that scream.

"No, I don't think she's dead."

Tom's voice startled her back to the present.

"But what else could she be? She's not—" Gwendolyn couldn't finish the sentence.

"Petrified," Tom said. Did he sound disappointed? No, no that was just her rattled brain going into shock, "I read about it once. Remarkably similar to death, but of course, curable."

Gwendolyn's ears perked at that, "Curable? Then she's going to be alright?"

Tom was quiet for a long time, his dark eyes focused on Abby's frozen ones; his face was unreadable.

"Yes, eventually she will be okay."

Gwendolyn felt relief, at this news, and yet she could not rejoice. The event was too awful for anyone to celebrate.

"Who could—how could such a thing happen?"

"There is one thought," Tom said, "But it's most likely just fantasy."

"What?"

"The—"

Neither of them had heard the footsteps. They were unaware of the third party until Glenn spoke.

"The Chamber of Secrets."

* * *

**A/N: **so that was the chapter. Sorry for the wait, I just got a little caught up in stuff, but here it is now! I hope you've enjoyed, and please as always feel free to review and tell me what you thought. I love to hear from you.


	11. May 10th, 1948

**A/N:** I am so sorry I took so long to update this. I started writting it and then life got a little hecktic, but I am back on track now; I hope you enjoy

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything. It all belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling - I'm just borrowing it.

* * *

**May 10th 1948**

The word of the chamber and the attacks continued so that by the time two weeks had passed three other people had joined Abigail petrified in the hospital, and the school had been completely shrouded in fear.

Hogwarts was no longer the carefree place of magic and learning it was supposed to be. Now no one dared to walk the halls alone, at night they didn't dare to leave the common room. Everyone was looking over their shoulders.

Hogwarts wasn`t safe anymore.

And the Chamber`s power spread.

"Well, it has to be a Slytherin."

"Evelyn really," Gwendolyn sighed, "Not again."

"What? Don't you want to know?" she asked her friend, looking imploringly from Gwendolyn to Glenn who was glancing suspiciously into every shadow as he Sheppard the two girls from dinner.

One good thing that had come from the attacks was that Glenn had finally forgiven her. In fact the night of the first attack, when he had found them, he had been coming to talk to her.

That was the day he had described the chamber of secrets to her.

"No, I don't want to accuse innocent people of a heinous crime."

A lump was growing in her stomach. It had been for days.

_It's said that Salthazar Slytherin made a room, a chamber, hidden within the school. _

That lump was dread. Dread that had been growing since she first saw Abby

_Among the things that old Slytherin kept in there was rumoured to be a beast._

Dread that had been growing since she first heard about the chamber of secrets.

_It wasn't just any beast. It was one that would only do Slytherin's bidding - or his heir. Only one of them could use the beast to rid the school of those that should not be there._

"- Muggleborns."

Gwendolyn jumped as Evelyn's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"What is with you lately?" her friend asked, looking at her pityingly, "I'm going back to my common room - without an escort because I'm telling you Glenn, the only ones in danger are Muggleborns."

Gwendolyn watched her friend leave as the dread strengthen and gnawed at her insides.

Dread that had been growing since she saw the way Tom's eye sparkled when he spoke of the beast, of the chamber

Of Muggleborns.

* * *

"Tom are you even listening to me?"

Gwendolyn's voice, both exasperated and disappointed seeped into his head, allowing him to grow stronger for the moment. He just had to focus, hold on to it, keep it-

_She could be useful if she'd just-_

_No! Shut it._

He had done horrible things; he was weakening - he could feel it. Day by day, hour by hour, he was losing.

Losing himself.

But Gwendolyn couldn't know. She would be so, be so

He wasn't the only one keeping secrets.

"Why didn't you tell me?" his voice was soft, "Why didn't I know you were an Metamorphagus?"

"No one knew. I didn't tell anyone," Gwendolyn responded quietly. She didn't look at him.

"You could have told me you know. I wouldn't have..." _Used her? Then you are weak. If she can't be turned dump her._

_I can't! I won't!_

_You can and you will. It is only a matter of time._

_I will never - you can't -_

Gwendolyn looked up at him quickly and then back at the book her lap, "I didn't understand it; I thought it was... it scared me."

"How could you - power should never be hidden from."

_We have power - we have control!_

Tom shivered. Power, the voice was right. It did give them power - but...

"I can speak to snakes," Tom said after a moment; he spoke softly, not entirely aware that he had said it.

_Go, kill, fight!_

_No! We need to -_

_We belong now; we aren't just anyone - we're the heir - the only heir._

_But why do we-?_

_It is what he wants. You don't want to disappoint family not that you have found it, do you?_

_I don't -_

_We belong; you belong._

_Belong_

The word rung in his head. He was weak, so weak. If only he could...

But Tom wanted to belong; he so wanted to belong.

The monster roared and all presence of Tom was gone.

Family was going to be his undoing.

* * *

Something was wrong with Tom; there was no denying that.

He was off... closed more often than not.

Gwendolyn didn't know what to do - what to think.

That's not true. She knew what to think; she just didn't want to.

There were tons of other things that could be going on, maybe nothing at all. She didn't need to sit there and think the worst.

And yet...

"Glenn," she said hesitantly, "Can I ask you something?"

He stopped and looked down at her, "Of course, anything."

"Do you think that..." she stopped, fiddling with the edge of her skirt, "Well what Eve said... who do you think would-" she looked up at him with sad pleading eyes, "If you… would you think… Tom?"

She was horrible. Completely and utterly awful, and yet...

He had such faith in her and here she was accusing him of...

What could be more awful than whoever was attacking these people? No one was dead yet but she didn't think that was from lack of trying.

"Gwen I-" Glenn stuttered. He seemed to be trying to say what she wanted to hear, but was struggling with it. "It's like you said before, we can't go about accusing innocent people."

_He does, _she thought miserably, _he thinks it's Tom. _

Tom wouldn't do that; he had been getting so much better. He actually cared... at least he actually cared about her.

But what was it about the Chamber?

_The beast was one_ _that would only do Slytherin's bidding - or his heir._

Heir, family, belong.

What would Tom do to prove that relationship? How long had he spent in the library looking for first his father than his mother?

Maybe he found what he was looking for.

"But if you had to, if you had to name someone in this school, it would be him - you would say Tom, wouldn't you?"

Glenn gave her a stern look, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."

"I do want them."

"You don't know what you want."

"Yes I do!" Gwendolyn threw her hands up in frustration, "I _need _to know - Glenn... I'm going crazy here; just... please?"

Glenn sighed, "Alright - I may not be the most unbiased source but... in that situation... yes he has crossed my mind."

Gwendolyn nodded a grim look on her face, "Thank you."

With that she spun on her heal and headed down the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

"To get to the bottom of this!"

* * *

"What's going on?"

Gwendolyn had tracked Tom down to the library, and now she was leaning on his table a stern look on her face.

"Gwen," he sounded surprised to see her there, which wasn't unreasonable since she hadn't been expecting this either, "What are you - what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this - us - you."

"I'm sorry... I still don't follow."

His sympathetic glance seemed sincere, however the blank look in his eyes sent a cold spike to her stomach.

She sat down, not letting her gaze leave his face, "Then follow this - You've been acting strange for months, pulling away - avoiding me, and then this happened, and when you spoke I - I really didn't want to think it, but... just tell me what's going on."

Tom's face remained impassive as he stared at her for a long moment. The cold spike grew.

"What don't you want to think?" his voice was soft and held some emotion that would have been comforting if Gwendolyn didn't think it sounded a lot like fear.

"Tom, look, I-I-" she stuttered for a moment, "I love you, and I want to..." she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, "So look me in the eye and say you have nothing to do with this and I'll believe you."

There was a long horrible moment when she thought he wouldn't do it.

Then his deep endless - blank - dark eyes met hers.

"Gwendolyn, I promise that I have nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets."

She got what she wanted.

So why was there a small part of her that didn't believe him?

* * *

Myrtle had gone running out of class again.

Gwendolyn shouldn't care. She didn't even like the girl, but it seemed unkind to let her cry alone in the bathroom.

Although sometimes Myrtle over reacted, the comment this time hadn't been kind.

Sighing she reached Myrtle's favourite haunt, and knocked on the door.

"Myrtle? Are you -"

She stopped when she heard a low murmur. She couldn't make out the words but...

It sounded too deep to be Myrtle.

Was there a boy in the girls' lavatory?

"Myrtle?" Gwendolyn knocked more persistently, "Are you okay? Is someone-"

All thought left her head as she stepped into the room.

She could only recognize two things.

Myrtle's limp - lifeless? - body on the cold stone ground and...

"Tom?" the name come out kind of strangled, "What are you -what's?"

Tom looked as stricken to see her as she felt.

His face pale, he yelled something that sounded a lot like... hissing?

Confused, worried, Gwendolyn turned around -

And caught sight of something yellow reflecting in the facet.

All went black.

* * *

**A/N: **Again, sorry that I took so long to update, but hopefully you enjoyed it and as always please feel free to review. I love to hear what you think.


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